Rise of the Elemental
by Vizaryll
Summary: A magical accident sends twenty-three year old Jack Starburn into the world of Harry Potter. Follow Jack into a world far more expansive than we see in canon, as he wades through different kinds of magic, dastardly politics, and attempts to assist Harry in fulfilling his 'destiny'.
1. A Striking Start

This is my first attempt at Harry Potter fanfiction, although I've been reading them for close to a decade. Any copied work is entirely unintentional, but when you've been reading for as long as I have, you can't help but remember bits and pieces that make an impact on you.

I write for my own enjoyment, although it's nice to be appreciated. If you want to share your opinion on my work, you know what to do.

I've got a lot of this planned out, and I'm planning for 'Rise of the Elemental' to be the first in a three-part series.

And now, on with the story!

* * *

 _"Right – I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and me. And_ you _," Vernon snarled at Harry, "you stay out of your aunt's way while she's cleaning."_

Harry quickly left the house, wanting to avoid being caught by his aunt as she went on a cleaning spree.

Not for the first time, Harry wondered why he couldn't stay at Hogwarts during the summer. Even though he'd only be here for another month, Harry couldn't help but long for Hogwarts. The castle was his home, not like the sterile, boring house that was No. 4 Privet Drive.

The sky was cloudy, giving the country a welcome break to the summer heat over the previous weeks.

Deciding to head left, Harry walked up to where Privet Drive connected to Magnolia Crescent, and continued walking from there to Magnolia Road, which led to a small park.

Making his way over to a swing set and sitting on one of the swings, Harry thought about the events at the end of his last school year, just a few short months ago.

Attempting not to focus on the encounter with Voldemort, Harry instead thought about the good parts of his school – Mainly his friends.

Friends that had seemingly forgotten him over the summer. Ron had said that, hadn't he? That they'd all write to each other over the summer. But he hadn't gotten a single letter.

"Happy birthday to me…" A disappointed Harry sang under his breath, as he left the swings and slumped down on one of the benches.

Harry would have been happy to see the face of anyone from the wizarding world at this point, just to prove it wasn't all a dream.

As Harry closed his eyes and tried not to think about how lonely and isolated he felt, the sky suddenly turned dark.

Harry opened his eyes, as though something was wrong. Swiftly getting to his feet, he looked up both scared and curious. What had caused the sky to turn dark all of a sudden? It was barely 5 o'clock. The sun wasn't due to go down for a few hours yet!

" _Is this because of magic?"_ Harry wondered, " _My magic?"_

As if hearing his thoughts, the sky lit up with what looked like a flash of lightning, which struck a spot only a few short metres away from Harry.

Yelping in surprise, Harry involuntarily jumped backwards, the back of his knees hitting the edge of the bench he'd been sat on a few moments previously.

Falling onto the bench, Harry tried and failed to contain his surprise. Both at the fact the sky had suddenly lightened again, casting a soft orange glow over the park, the storm dissipating as quickly as it came.

And at the fact a body was crumpled on the grass, in the exact same spot the lightening had struck.

" _Was this my magic?! I know I was feeling lonely, but I didn't expect this!"_

Cautiously, Harry crept towards the body, half expecting it to jump up and attack him. Harry could see a light blue tracksuit, and a short-sleeved dark blue top. Neither had an insignia or logo. Nor did the dark trainers that were being worn.

Upon reaching him – for Harry had discovered the body was that of a relatively young man's (the scruffy half-stubble/half-beard gave it away) – Harry placed a hand on the man's shoulder and shook him lightly, in an attempt to wake him.

"Ughhhh…" the man groaned, as he rolled over onto his side.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked cautiously, taking a few steps back in case the man decided to attack him.

The man managed to sit up, putting his hands flat on the grass behind him and locking his arms straight, preventing him from falling backwards.

Blinking tiredly, the man sat up properly, before rubbing his eyes and having a look around. His eyes were a striking blue colour, not dissimilar to the Headmaster's eyes.

 _"Well, nothing's broken. Where the f-… Where am I?"_ he muttered. The man finally took notice of Harry, but didn't seem to stare at his scar. _"He's a muggle then."_ Harry mentally decided. After all, the man didn't seem to react to seeing his scar.

"Hey kid, where am I?" the man asked. Harry bristled slightly at being called a kid. He knew he was small for his age, but people didn't need to keep mentioning it!

"Er - You're in a park on Magnolia Street." At the man's blank look, Harry elaborated. "Surrey? England?" The man's eyes finally widened.

"How the heck did I end up in Surrey? My geography isn't fantastic, but I'm pretty sure that's nowhere near Coventry."

Harry's geography wasn't amazing either, but he was sure Coventry was near Birmingham, and Birmingham was a little over 100 miles North-West of Surrey.

"Wow. So, how did you end up here then?" Harry asked, before remembering the dark sky and the lightning strike. "Hey! Do you remember anything about the storm and the lightning strike just now?" Harry asked, while he re-took his seat on the bench just behind him.

" _Lightning?_ " the man muttered. Shaking his head, the man replied, "Sorry kid, I don't remember anythi-…" Stopping abruptly, the man muttered, " _Wait a sec, yeah I do! What the fuck happened?"_

Ignoring the man's muttering, and having enough of being called 'kid', Harry stated, "My name isn't 'kid', it's Harry. Harry Potter." Harry wasn't too worried about the muggle recognising him, especially if he was from Coventry. The only muggles that should know him were ones from Privet Drive and the surrounding area.

Harry watched as the man took in the information for a second, before his head snapped towards Harry sharply. Laughing, the man said, "Sure it is, kid. And I'm the Queen."

Confused, and definitely not expecting that reaction, Harry shifted slightly. "Err, what? But I am Harry Potter," he said, unconsciously shifting his hair to one side, exposing his scar.

The man's eyes laser focused on his head all of a sudden, before his jaw appeared to drop slightly. Still confused, Harry's eyes narrowed at the new reaction, wondering if perhaps the man wasn't a muggle after all.

Realising what he was doing, the man snapped his jaw closed. He also closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering, " _What the fuck?_ " under his breath.

Suddenly, the man stood up. He wasn't especially tall, Harry considered - not when compared to people like Hagrid - but nevertheless, the man towered over Harry's slight frame.

"Ooookay, kid, err– Sorry… _Harry_ –" the man said, with a semi-appeasing smile upon seeing Harry bristle once again at being called 'kid'.

"–I'm slightly confused here, _Harry_ , and I think I'm going to need some help figuring stuff out."

Even more confused now, especially at the hint of incredulousness the man inflected when he said his name, Harry simply nodded at the man. _"He doesn't look all that threatening,"_ Harry mused, before frowning, and thinking about Quirrell. _"But then again, looks can be deceiving."_

"Can you tell me what the date is?"

Bewildered, Harry promptly replied, "It's the 31st of July," before muttering under his breath, " _Happy birthday indeed._ "

"Yeah, I'm going to need the year as well please, mate." Came the man's slightly hesitant reply.

Raising his eyebrows, Harry allowed the confusion he felt to grace his features. "1992" he replied.

Surprised confusion quickly gave way to alarm, as the man's body seemed to lose all of its previous rigidity, as he fell to his hands and knees moments after Harry's reply.

"No… No, it's not, it's twenty-… It can't be…" the man muttered, barely loudly enough for Harry to hear it.

"Hey, hey, easy. It'll be alright." Harry said placatingly, as he slowly moved towards the form of the fallen man.

The man's head snapped up to Harry, who halted his movements in response. "N-no, you d-don't understand," he stuttered, before halting his speech and swallowing. The man then sat backwards on crossed legs and looked pleadingly at Harry. "This has to be a dream… I can't… I can't have…"

Still very confused, Harry took the initiative and sat down in front of the man. "I'm guessing that's not the date you were expecting. So that means you've travelled in time, as well as… Space?"

The man gave a hesitant nod, before letting his head fall into his waiting hands.

"Can you tell me your name, at least?" Harry let out one of his questions, in the most concerned tone he could offer.

"Jack. My name is Jack Starburn."

"Starburn, eh? Bit cooler than Potter, I'd say." Harry joked, in an effort to lighten the man's mood.

After a few seconds, Jack looked up and gave Harry a weak smile. "So, uhhh… You're really Harry Potter, and I'm not dreaming?"

His confusion returning to him, Harry asked, "Do you know me then? Are you a wizard?"

Of all the things Harry was expecting in response to his query, another round of laughter wasn't one of them. "A wizard? Me? Ha! My brother was the one that wanted to become a wizard… I just liked the books… And the films."

Before Harry could begin to decipher that response, Jack stood. "Okay, I can deal with this, I think. But I'm not doing this while sat on the grass." Taking the unspoken invitation, Harry stood and followed him to the bench.

After they both sat down, Jack started the conversation again. "Alrighty Harry. Say I believe you, I now have a gigantic problem on my hands. Where I'm from, there are no wizards, no magic, no Hogwarts, nothing."

Alarmed, Harry allowed the full implications of that statement to wash over his thoughts for a few seconds. "Wait, no magic? But that's… Are you sure? Maybe they- they've all just hidden, and- and you can't find them because you're… A muggle? You are a muggle, right?" He said, stumbling over a few words.

Grimacing slightly, Jack said, "As far as I'm aware, I'm a muggle, yes. But consider this, how would I know about the fact that Hogwarts exists, if I'm a muggle?"

Confused, Harry replied, "But Hogwarts must exist in your… Your world, right?"

"Can't say I've ever been to Scotland to find out if it existed, but just take my word for it that there is no magic in the… The world? The dimension? The place where I'm from."

"Alright. Let's say I believe you, how do you know about me?" Harry questioned. "And don't say you don't," Harry quickly spoke, upon seeing Jack raise a hand when he opened his mouth to reply. "I know you know who I am, I saw you look at my scar when I told you my name."

Jack raised both of his hands placatingly, "Alright, chill out, I wasn't going to deny it." Harry nodded, so Jack continued, "Mind if I reply to that with a question of my own?"

Confusion seemed to be the order of the day, but Harry nodded anyway.

"You said it's 1992 right?" Jack asked, before muttering, " _1992, unbelievable._ " He then continued audibly, "So you've just finished your first year of Hogwarts, and just turned 12, right?"

Cautiously, Harry nodded again.

"So that means last year you defeated Voldemort – who was stuck onto the back of Professor Qurriell's head - in front of the Mirror of Erised, right?" Jack said, a sly smile on his face.

Alarmed, Harry leapt to his feet, and took one big sideward step away from Jack. "H-how… How did you know that?"

"Easy Harry, relax. Believe me when I say I have no intention of hurting you." Jack said, once again raising his hands in a clear 'I mean no harm' gesture.

Nodding hesitantly, Harry made no movement towards the bench. Instead, he asked suspiciously, "I don't understand. Nobody knows about that, outside of Professor Dumbledore."

"And doesn't that make me interesting?" Jack asked, with the sly smile back on his face. "How does a guy who isn't from this world… This dimension… A guy who is from a world without magic…" Jack trailed off, before grinning at Harry, his blue eyes bright.

"How does he know about Harry Potter?"


	2. A Strange Journey

Bit late with this one, as I had planned on uploading weekly (although you had no knowledge of my upload schedule until now) - Sorry about that. The pace of these first few chapters is quite slow, but it should pick up once Harry goes back to Hogwarts.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry continued to eye Jack's grinning form suspiciously. Jack's knowledge of events was seemingly impossible. There were only 4 people who knew what happened that night…

" _Quirrell died. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't say anything. Vol-…"_ Harry's train of thought trailed off, and his eyes widened in alarm.

The grin on Jack's face fell, and his hands once again raised in an attempt at a peaceful gesture. "I'm guessing you've gone through recent events, and you've probably jumped to the wrong conclusion. Like I said, I'm not going to hurt you, Harry."

"Say I believe you." Harry started, echoing Jack's earlier words, making him smile slightly. "How do you know all this?"

Jack sighed, lowering his hands to grip the bench, as he leaned backwards slightly. "Well, I'm not sure I can tell you… It's a tad complicated…" Jack trailed off, not realising that would set off an outburst from Harry.

"Oh, come on! I'm sick of this! 'I'm sorry Harry, I cannot tell you.' 'I'm sorry Harry, maybe when you're older!'" Harry ranted, bringing a smile to Jack's face. "Don't you laugh! Do you have any idea how annoying this is?!"

"Believe it or not, Harry, I was your age once as well. I remember being told the same sort of thing."

"Yeah, well, it's not fair. Why can't I know now? Why can't you tell me?" Harry huffed, continuing, "You set me up! With all that stuff about 'How does this muggle know about Harry Potter?'"

Here, Jack grimaced, "Okay, I'll be more honest with you then. I'm sorry for saying what I said. However, I need you to be interested in me, or more specifically, the knowledge I have, because you are literally the only hope I have right now."

That brought Harry up short. "What do you mean?"

Jack sighed again. "Harry, I'm a long way from home. I have no place to live, no money, no food…"

The implications raced through Harry's mind, as he realised Jack had literally fell into another world with just the clothes on his back.

Harry thought back to the Dursley's. Despite everything, even they had kept clothes on his back (however ratty, old, and torn), food in his belly (however meagre), and a roof over his head (even if it was a cupboard for 10 years).

"Okay." Harry simply stated, which brought Jack up short.

"Okay?" Jack queried, seeming genuinely surprised, before questioning, "Just like that?"

Harry nodded and not two seconds later, Jack facepalmed.

"Harry, I know you think being a Slytherin is bad and all, but you seriously need to learn how to bargain. I have a lot of useful information, and you have me figuratively over a barrel." Jack stated, before elaborating at Harry's confused look.

"You could have used your position of power to get a lot of information out of me, and it's highly unlikely I would have been able to refuse."

"I couldn't do that! That's just… Wrong, isn't it?" Harry questioned, eyes wide as he looked at Jack. He looked very innocent at that moment.

"Morally wrong? Probably. But you have all the power here. You set the rules, so to speak." Jack replied, as if egging Harry on.

"No. Well… Not 'No'. Just not now. We need to-"

"OI POTTER!"

Harry whirled around, surprised at the interruption, before scowling at the person who shouted. It was his fat cousin, Dudley.

Harry and Jack watched as a group of five boys raced towards them.

The gang stopped a few metres away from the pair, and after giving himself a few seconds to catch his breath, Dudley wheezed out, "Oi, Dad wants us back at the house. So, either you walk home, or we drag you home." He finished with a smirk, as his four friends sniggered around them.

Harry turned to look at Jack, who raised his eyebrow in question at him, before looking towards the group, and back to Harry. Harry quickly understood, and nodded at Jack.

Jack stood from his seat on the bench and took a few steps towards Harry.

"Oi, who are you then?" Came from Dudley questioningly, his eyes a bit wider than they were previously as he took in the size of the man standing next to Harry.

"Harry has no interest in returning while your family entertain their guests tonight, so I suggest you leave now." Jack said, his voice slightly deeper than it had been previously. Harry noticed at the wind picked up slightly, in time with Jack confronting his cousin's gang. _"How's that for dramatic effect?"_ An amused Harry thought.

Dudley scowled, went to take a step towards Harry, before glancing at Jack and thinking better of it. Instead he turned towards his gang, muttering a " _Whatever._ _Let's go_ ", before running back in the direction they came.

" _Wicked._ " Jack heard Harry mutter under his breath, before replying more audibly, "Thanks, I bet they would have dragged me home if you weren't here."

"No worries. Who were they?" Jack questioned, not remembering if that was supposed to happen or not.

Harry raised his eyebrow at Jack in response. "Shouldn't you know?" he replied, sarcastically.

Jack smirked, "Of course. Your cousin, Dudley, was the fat one at the front. The two smaller boys were Piers and Dennis, while the two larger boys were Gordon and Malcolm."

Harry's shoulders sagged a bit in disbelief, before straightening up and nodding. "Okay, so you do know them… That's good?"

Jack simply shrugged in response. "I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble…" he trailed off, slightly concerned as that had never happened either.

"I should be fine, and this gives us time to figure out what we're going to do next."

Jack quirked an eyebrow. " _We_ , eh?" Harry nodded resolutely, before his eyes lit up. "You said you're a muggle, right?" Jack nodded, curious as to where Harry was going with this.

"Okay, but that was your old world, maybe here you're magical."

Jack tilted his head to the side, before replying, "As cool as that would be, I don't think it works like that."

Harry shook his head, before reaching into one of his baggy trouser pockets, and pulling out his wand.

Jack looked at him curiously. "Didn't your uncle lock up your stuff when you first got home from Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded, "He did, but I told him my wand was in my trunk."

Jack smirked in response. "Smart." Jack looked at the wand again, observing it as Harry held it. Would it work for him?

" _Highly unlikely"_ , he mentally decided, before saying, "Holly and Phoenix Feather. Although I can't remember the length, but I'd guess it's about 10 inches?"

"11," Harry quickly replied, before passing it over to Jack, before grinning and saying, "Well, go on. Give it a wave."

Laughing at his grin, Jack waved the wand in an anti-clockwise spiral.

 _Nothing happened._

Frowning, Harry said, "Maybe it's the wand?"

"I highly doubt it," came Jack's immediate reply, "Plus, something should have happened as soon as I touched the wand, if I recall correctly." Sure, it stung slightly, but it was nothing to get worked up over. "I didn't have magic before, and I still don't now. No big deal."

Harry looked surprised as he received his wand back from Jack, storing it away in his trouser pocket. "I couldn't ever imagine living without magic, now that I have it."

A slightly uncomfortable silence fell between the pair, as they both considered the previous few minutes. _"It doesn't matter that he's a muggle."_ Harry thought, decisively. _"He still needs my help. And we both have something the other wants. I want to know what he knows, and he needs my help with food, and a house, and stuff…"_

Looking back at Jack, Harry made up his mind. _"He needs my help, and I have all that money in my vault, what else am I going to spend it on?"_

"Hey Jack?" Harry started, gaining his companion's attention, "Did you bring anything with you, when you, uhhh, _travelled_ here?"

Jack looked back in surprise, as if he hadn't considered it. Reaching into his pockets, he brought out a few different items. Harry recognised a wallet, a set of keys, some sunglasses, some pink earbuds ( _"Pink?" Harry questioned mentally_ ), and a large, thin, white, box-shaped thing.

"What's the white thing?" Harry questioned. Jack merely looked surprised. "Uh, I don't know my history that well either, but I'm pretty sure mobile phones existed in the 90's… Right?"

" _Mobile_ Phones? You mean that's a phone? We have a house phone, but I've never seen one without wires attached to it…"

Jack nodded, "That makes sense. I think they might start rolling older versions of this thing out in a few years… Christ, this is going to be confusing."

Jack looked up suddenly. "Harry, magic short-circuits muggle electronics, right?" Harry nodded, hesitantly.

Jack suddenly looked like he was on the verge of another breakdown. "Harry, this phone contains pictures of my friends, and family. I cannot lose it. I can't risk having magic done around it. Where can I keep it safe?"

All of a sudden, Harry understood. He knew what it was like to cherish the pictures of his loved ones. His parents. If anything happened to his photo album…

Jack was the same as him in that way. Alone in the world. Although Jack was far more alone than him. _"At least I have my friends."_

Sympathy colouring his tone, Harry responded, "Don't worry. We'll keep it safe while we figure stuff out."

Jack shook his head, staring at Harry intently. "Harry, I don't think you quite understand. This thing runs on electricity. I need a specific type of adaptor to get electricity into it. One which likely won't be invented for, what, 20 years?"

Harry's eyes went wide. " _20 years_?! Exactly how far in the future are you from?"

Jack's face suddenly turned weary. "When I left? It was the 31st of July… 2018."

Harry's face turned pale as he did the mental calculation. "26 years." He mouthed, with a look of horror on his face.

"Oh… Oh Merlin."

"Yeah, now you know how I feel. I've got a set of keys for a house that my parents don't live in yet. I've got a phone that hasn't been invented yet." Jack said, as he wiped his face clear of emotion. "But now isn't the time to worry about that. It's getting late. I'll just turn it off for now. Hopefully that means that magic won't destroy it; it's not like I can leave it anywhere for safe-keeping."

"R-right." Harry said, as he threw a semi-worried look at Jack. "Alright, so first things first. We need money, and that means we need to get to Gringotts, in Diagon Alley."

Jack smiled slightly, "Then it's a good job you've got your wand. It's time for you to experience a new type of magical transport."

 _"A new type of magical transport?"_ Harry questioned internally. "Okay. What do I need to do?"

"You need to stand at the edge of the road and hold your wand out." Jack said, mysteriously, before turning and walking towards Magnolia Street, prompting Harry to follow him.

Jack and Harry walked together in silence for a few moments, before they reached the edge of the park, and the pavement of Magnolia Street.

Harry hesitated for second, looking at Jack questioningly, before pulling out his wand again and holding it out in front of himself.

A deafening bang sounded, as both Harry and Jack threw up their arms to shield their eyes from the bright lights that suddenly appeared. A giant purple bus screeched to a halt in front of the pair, and a conductor in a purple uniform leapt from the opening at the back.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening." The conductor announced professionally.

Jack took the lead, "Hiya Stan, my friend and I need a ride to London. The Leaky Cauldron to be specific."

"Oh, 'choo do now, do ya? Bof' of ya? Well, we can cer'unly do tha'. Tha'll be Twenty-Two Sickles." Stan said, dropping his professional manner of speech. "But, for firteen you get 'ot choco, and for fifteen you get an 'ot-water bottle an' a toofbrush in whatever colour you like."

Stan eyed Jack carefully when he hesitated, but Harry quickly came to Jack's rescue. "Here." He said, after rummaging through his pockets, and shoving a bunch of silver coins into Stan's hand. Ignoring Jack's curious look, and Stan's stare, he climbed onto the bus, leaving Jack to chase after him.

Swinging around the pole as he stepped back onto the platform, Stan followed the pair through into the bottom deck of the Knight Bus. "These two're yours." Stan said, as he walked past the last two beds before reaching the driver, who was sat in an armchair in front of the steering wheel.

"This is our driver, Ernie Prang. These two're… Ya know, you two n'ver said…" Stan said, trailing off questioningly.

"I'm Jack, and this is Harry." Jack said, taking the lead, "We're meeting my family at the Leaky Cauldron." He finished smoothly.

Stan nodded. "Right 'en. Take 'er away, Ern," he said, as he sat down on the armchair next to Ernie's.

Jack quickly pushed Harry down onto the bed next to him, before jumping backwards onto his own bed, and grabbed one of the railings.

Harry's confused look quickly turned into surprise, as a huge bang sounded, and the bus took off at speed. "WHAT THE-" Looking through the huge bus windows, Harry saw the outside had completely changed.

Stan laughed, watching Harry with great amusement. "This is where we was before you two flagged us down." Jack tuned him out, having heard – and read - this speech before.

A short time later, the bus skidded to a halt in front of the shabby looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron.

"Right, off we get," said Jack, jumping to his feet. Jack led Harry off the bus, completely ignoring Stan's farewell. Harry however, turned around to thank the man. With another loud bang, the large purple Knight Bus shot off into the night.

Turning back towards the pub, Harry nearly ran into the back of Jack, who had ground to a halt. Skipping around him, Harry saw the look of shock and confusion on Jack's face.

"Harry, what do the families of muggleborn's see when they try to get into the pub?" Jack questioned. Harry knew what the issue was. "Don't worry, if you hold onto me, you'll be able to see the pub," he said, with a knowing tone.

Jack shook his head, "No, that's not it. I can see the pub just fine."

That shook Harry. "But… But I thought we agreed you didn't have magic." Muggles shouldn't be able to see the pub. Most of them ignore it, as it looks like an old, dilapidated shop.

"It seems I can interact with magic then… Perhaps I'm a squib?" Jack mused, thoughtfully.

"What's a squib?" Questioned Harry, who felt like he'd heard the word somewhere, but couldn't quite remember.

Giving him an appraising look, Jack said, "A squib is a person who is born with barely enough magic to interact with the wizarding world, but not enough to cast spells. Then again, squibs are specifically called as such because they're born into wizarding families. Perhaps I'm just a very weak muggleborn. Who knows, eh?"

Nodding, Harry replied with, "That explains how you saw the Knight Bus then too." Jack looked surprised, then actually appeared sheepish for a second. "I hadn't actually considered that."

" _Perhaps the goblins of Gringotts will reveal something._ " Jack muttered, just barely loud enough for Harry to catch it.

The pair entered the Leaky Cauldron, with Harry leading. Jack fell behind slightly as he gazed around in amazement. The pub was quite active, but that made sense to Jack. After all, it was 7pm on a Friday evening.

Attempting to ignore the sights – one man at the bar was drinking out of a mug which appeared to be on fire! – Jack put a hand on Harry's shoulder and guided him to the far corner of the pub, near the exit to the courtyard containing the gateway to Diagon Alley.

" _Harry,_ " Jack whispered, deliberately keeping his voice down, " _Do you remember the combination Hagrid used to get into Diagon Alley?_!" Jack remembered there being a difference here between the books and the films. _"I think the book said 5 taps, while the film showed 3 taps?"_ Jack thought, confused, _"Or was it the other way around?"_

" _I can't remember,_ " replied Harry, worriedly. They'd come so far, they couldn't fail now!

" _Don't worry, let's have a word with Tom._ " Jack guided Harry back over to the bar, before letting his voice carry over to the barman. "Hey Tom, would you mind letting us through to the alley?"

Tom raised a questioning eyebrow, putting down the mug and ambling over to the pair.

Jack leaned down to Harry and muttered, " _Flash him your scar._ " Harry turned to raise an eyebrow at Jack, but did as requested.

Tom's eyebrows shot up into his non-existent hairline, as he said, " _Blimey,_ " under his breath. Harry sent him a pleading look, and Tom acquiesced. Tom ushered the pair into the courtyard.

Once out of the backdoor of the pub, and into the courtyard, Tom whirled around on the pair, and allowed his wand to show in his hand. "Everything all right here, Harry?" Tom asked, shooting a glance at Jack.

After a few seconds, it was clear to Jack that Harry wasn't sure what was going on, so he spoke up. "Tom thinks you're here against your own will, Harry. Which would make sense if we were going into the muggle world, I suppose." Harry nodded, confirming what Jack said to be true. "I'm fine."

Tom allowed his lips to form a grimace. "Fair enough," he grunted, before turning towards the gateway. Turning his body slightly so Harry could see what he was doing, Tom tapped 3 times on specific bricks, which Harry memorised.

Jack watched, mesmerised as the bricks folded off to the sides, and the gap grew larger and larger.

Harry turned to Jack and said with a grin, "Welcome Jack, to Diagon Alley."


	3. A World of Magic

Not much for me to say before this one.

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Diagon Alley was surprisingly quiet, compared to what Jack had expected to see. There were only a few shoppers milling about outside the storefronts, as the majority had closed for the day. Harry was thankful however, as he didn't like crowds.

The cobbled street was dry, and dusty, showcasing the lack of rain England had seen in recent weeks.

"It's getting on in the evening, so let's go towards the bank sooner rather than later." Jack commented, getting a nod from Harry in reply.

Jack had to physically restrain himself from looking around at all the wonderous shops and things for sale, lest he distract them both from their destination. Instead, he forced his attention towards the giant, marble white building at the opposite end of the alley.

Jack had never been to the set from the movies, so Diagon Alley looked just as magical as he had imagined it to be.

Jack made note of the many different stores available. Some he knew, like Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and Flourish and Blotts; but there were some he'd never seen before, like Abbott's Magical Alcohols.

"You know, I remember you didn't do a whole bunch of shopping when you were here a year ago. Don't you want to explore this place at some point?" Jack asked, curious about Harry's lack of interest.

"After all," Jack continued, "we both essentially 'grew up Muggle', so the idea of magic should still be fascinating to you, and there are many opportunities to be explored, and secrets to be found here."

Harry made a point of verbally agreeing, in an attempt to prove he still did care. "I am definitely am, it's just difficult to stay interested when I get mobbed by crowds." Harry finished, with a slight grimace.

"Hmm, fair enough, I suppose. Anyway, moving on. Before we get to the bank, I'll need to feed you a few lines to say."

At Harry's questioning look, he elaborated. "You should find out if there's a Potter account manager. Also, you haven't got your key, right? The goblins will likely question that; just request they void the previous one, and create a new one."

"And in the future, try not to give your key away," he added, pointedly. "It's your money, after all."

Harry looked slightly embarrassed, but thoughtful. "Yeah, okay. I suppose that makes sense."

"Aye. Now, you'll also want to ask what it means to be the last of your family. Your family are fairly important, if I recall correctly. One of the 'sacred twenty-eight' or something."

"So, I really am the last of the Potters, huh?" Harry asked, glumly. Jack gave him a sympathetic glance.

"Yes, as far as I'm aware, your father's parents died in 1979, just 2 years before… Well, that fateful night." Jack finished a tad lamely. _"Although I'm curious to see if their names were Fleamont Potter and Euphemia Potter, in accordance with canon, or Charlus Potter and Dorea Potter (née Black) the more popular fandom choice."_

"Anyway, I'm not sure about the rules on when you'll be able to announce yourself as head of house, or if you're stuck as being an heir until you reach your majority. It'll be a good thing to ask the goblins."

Harry brightened, before giving Jack a sly look, "Something you don't know about my life, _how shocking_." Jack just laughed in response.

As they approached the imposing bank, Jack wondered out-loud, "I wonder if they're open 24/7." Harry shot him an amused look, before shaking his head, and entering the building.

Jack quickly caught up to Harry, muttering, " _Remember, don't show any teeth when smiling._ "

There were only two other people in the entire Gringotts Main Hall, both of whom were being served. Jack calmly walked up to the nearest Goblin teller, with Harry swiftly following behind.

After a few moments of waiting, Jack cleared his throat once. He got no response.

Sensing a raised eyebrow from Harry, Jack glanced at him and shook his head once. The pair simply waited for the teller to finish his writing.

Not 30 seconds later, the Goblin looked up from his work. "Thank you for waiting. You'd be surprised how many would demand my attention. Now then, what business do you have with Gringotts this evening?"

Harry spoke up, a polite smile on his face, not showing any teeth. "Hello, my name is Harry Potter, and I'd like to speak to the Potter account manager."

The goblin teller frowned down at him, and asked bluntly: "Do you have any proof you are Harry Potter?" Harry glanced at Jack, who deliberately looked at his scar and shook his head slightly.

"I'm afraid I don't have my key with me. Is there another way for me to prove who I am?" he asked.

"Yes, but we require one drop of blood from you." The goblin grinned sharply down at Harry. Harry nodded back, before verbalising, "Okay." Jack quickly jumped in, "As long as the blood is destroyed in front of us, after you are finished."

Jack elaborated at Harry's raised eyebrow, "Your blood can be used for many malicious magics. Not that I would cast any doubt on the good goblins of Gringotts, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

The goblin then spoke up, "Your friend is correct. It is highly unwise to freely give your blood away. There are many rituals which could use your blood – freely given or otherwise - to harm you. You have my word I will not abuse this."

Nodding, Jack stepped back and allowed the goblin to prick Harry's finger, before pressing Harry's finger into a piece of parchment. The parchment seemed to come alive in front of Jack's eyes, who watched as lines started to sprawl everywhere, in what appeared to be a weirdly twisted family tree. He missed Harry staring in wonder at his finger, where the cut had magically sealed itself up.

"Very good, thank you mister Potter. I will call the Potter family Account Manager to deal with your inquiry." The goblin, whom Jack was fairly sure he knew, touched something under his desk, which appeared to summon another goblin.

A few whispered words in a language Jack couldn't possibly understand – likely Gobbledegook – and the other goblin ambled through one of the smaller doors behind the teller's desks.

"Thank you, mister goblin." Harry replied. Jack however, took it a step further, by bowing to the goblin, and saying, "Thank you for your assistance, Bogrod." Jack remembered the goblin's name from the films and the books.

The goblin's eyes widened slightly, before returning to normal. The goblin nodded slightly, before returning to his writing.

Recognising the dismissal for what it was, Jack guided Harry off to one side, in case the goblin had more customers to deal with.

" _What was all that about?_ " Harry questioned in a low voice, making an effort not to disturb anyone.

" _I was fairly sure I recognised the goblin, so I went out on a limb. I didn't expect anything major to happen, but the goblins don't get treated nicely by the vast majority of wizards._ " Jack whispered back.

" _Did you hear what – Bogrod? – whispered to the other goblin?_ "

Jack shook his head in response. " _Wouldn't have mattered if I did. I don't speak Gobbledegook._ "

Harry laughed quietly, before whispering, " _Is that really the name of their language?_ "

Jack frowned slightly, muttering, " _Later,_ " in reply, while gazing off over Harry's shoulder. Confused, Harry turned around, and saw another goblin slowly walk up to the pair.

"Mister Potter, correct?" the goblin questioned. Harry quickly nodded, "That's me."

"Very well then. Please, follow me." The goblin turned and walked towards the end of the main hall, and the pair followed him through the large double doors.

After following the goblin for a few minutes, taking a very strange path with many turns, Harry and Jack found themselves outside a very ornate looking door, with a plaque outside reading: "Ripclaw".

Following the goblin into the rather fancy looking office, the pair were seated on a rather comfortable sofa. The goblin's desk also looked quite fancy, and was adorned with many interesting looking objects, including something that looked like an upside-down chandelier, with many large, grey baubles floating in the air.

The goblin, Ripclaw, Jack assumed, walked around the desk and hopped up into his chair. "Right then, how can Gringotts help you today, mister Potter?"

Harry looked surprised to find out that the Potter account manager had been the one to collect them, rather than a lower ranked goblin employee.

Glancing at Jack for a moment, Harry quickly gave the goblin his full attention.

"I'm afraid I don't have my key, Ripclaw. Can I request a new one?" Harry asked, uncertainty clear in his tone.

Ripclaw quickly wrote something down on a piece of parchment, which disappeared in a flash of light after he'd finished. "You certainly can, mister Potter. The key will be made available to you before you leave us today."

Harry let out a sigh of relief at how easy this was going so far, before questions started pouring out of him.

"Ripclaw, can you tell me what it means to be the last of the Potters? I mean, as far as I know, I am. But… Did my family leave anything here? I know I have my trust vault, but my parents didn't use that, did they? I'm not all that sure how this all works…" Harry trailed off, looking a little lost.

Ripclaw frowned slightly, and took a quick glance at one of the many different pieces of parchment on his desk. "Your listed magical guardian is one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and as such, he has responsibility over your finances here at Gringotts. I send statements to him monthly, updating him on financial reports, and the like."

Ignoring Harry's open-mouthed surprise, he continued, "In your vault, there are the Heir and the Head of House rings. The Heir ring is available to be worn from your 11th birthday onwards, while the Head of House ring can only be worn from your 17th birthday onwards. You are correct when you say you are the last of the Potters, and you are considered by magic and by law the Heir of House Potter family, until your 17th birthday, on which you will become the Head of House Potter by magic and by law."

Jack jumped in, while Harry attempted to assimilate the information. "Do the rings merely signify status?" Ripclaw give him a questioning glance, before looking to Harry.

Harry give him a nod in reply, stating, "Please answer my friend's questions as if they were my own."

"Very well, mister Potter. Your family rings are just that, rings. Most families, including yours, have enchanted their rings to do certain things, such as auto-resizing, and auto-recall when lost." _"But they do not require anything special to be worn, so anyone could wear the ring, and it doesn't require Potter blood to wear the Potter ring."_ Jack mentally finished. How curious.

Ripclaw continued on with answering the previous lot of questions. "Your family have two vaults with us; one high-security 'family-class' vault, and one mid-security vault. You will be able to enter the family vault when you turn 17 and become an adult in the eyes of magic. It is written in the original terms upon purchasing a family-class Gringotts vault, that only an adult family member of the Potter family may enter it. In addition, there are restrictions for those of the Potter family that aren't the Head of House, on what may be removed, or how much money can be removed at once, from the family vault."

Harry nodded, looking slightly dazed as he attempted to follow along.

Jack jumped in for him again, "Would Harry be able to retrieve his Heir of House Potter ring from the vault, or could a goblin retrieve it for him?"

Ripclaw nodded, grimacing slightly, "In accordance with the goblin-wizard treaty of 1753, we are honour-bound to retrieve the rings for houses of a certain status, when they are in need."

Harry looked up sharply, "'Families of a certain status'? What is the status of the Pott- of my family?"

Ripclaw grinned sharply. " _Glad he'd picked up on that, perhaps?_ " thought Jack, _"I would have asked, if Harry hadn't."_

"Some families are Noble Houses which gives them certain privileges. A more exclusive group are called the Most Ancient and Noble Houses, those of which grant them further privileges. The Potter family falls under the latter category, and as such, its full title is; the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. The Potter family can trace its roots back to the early 1300s. As a result, you will obtain a seat on the Wizengamot, the legislative and judicial branch of your ministry, upon reaching your majority," Ripclaw finished lazily.

Jack glanced at Harry, who was frowning in an attempt to process the information, before he muttered under his breath, " _So I'm the Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, huh? That would have been nice to know._ "

"What about the Sacred Twenty-Eight?" Jack interjected.

"House Potter isn't one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," Ripclaw started, only to be interrupted by Harry: "What's the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

"The Sacred Twenty-Eight is a list of 'Pure-Blooded' families, created earlier this century. Cantankerus Nott - younger brother to Theophilius Nott, the Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Nott at the time - was suspected to have created the list. All Twenty-Eight of these families have seats on the Wizengamot, and all houses listed have the title of 'Most Noble' and are the only houses to do so," Ripclaw finished, in a bored tone.

Jack spoke up with his own commentary. "From what I've found, the list isn't useful beyond that. It's just a way of the old families ensuring their reign at the top of the food-chain, so to speak."

Ignoring the pair for a moment, Ripclaw wrote something on another piece of paper, which also flashed away from his desk.

At the same time, one of the baubles on the tree-looking object on Ripclaw's desk lit up a bright green colour. Pressing a different button under his desk, a door off to the side of the office opened, and a goblin ambled into the room, and carefully placed a package onto Ripclaw's desk. The goblin said something quietly to Ripclaw in Gobbledegook, before leaving the office as quickly as he came.

"Your key has arrived, mister Potter," Ripclaw simply said, in response to his client's questioning look.

Nodding, Harry responded with a polite, "Thank you, Ripclaw."

Grinning sharply, Ripclaw picked up where he'd left off. "In terms of financial assets, the total monetary value of your trust vault is 50,000 Galleons. Your trust vault has its amount raised to 50,000 at the start of each month, and you have a maximum withdrawal limit of 1,000 Galleons per day."

Harry nodded to signal he was following along, while Jack thought they were finally getting to the good stuff. Time to find out just how rich Harry is.

"Your family vault contains not just money, as evidenced by the location of the rings, but other heirlooms and assets. The monetary value of your family vault, if we only look at coins, is 52,584,920 Galleons, 15 Sickles, and 25 Knuts."

That staggering amount had both of them almost literally picking their jaws off their laps. _"That's an insane amount of money._ " Jack thought, before saying, "How much is that in Pound Sterling?"

Raising an eyebrow, Ripclaw looked at another piece of parchment. "Given the current exchange rate is 4.93 Pounds Sterling to the Galleon… 259,244,115 Pounds Sterling." Pre-empting another question, Ripclaw stated, "That would mean your trust vault contains 246,500 Pounds Sterling."

" _There's_ _a quarter of a billion, in money alone, in his family vault. What the fuck."_

" _As Ron would say; 'bloody hell!'"_

"In terms of property," Ripclaw started, ignoring the visibly stunned and gaping pair, "you have the Potter family cottage, located in Godric's Hollow, housed the former Heir to House Potter, James Potter, was unfortunately destroyed as a result of the events of 31st October 1981."

Continuing to ignore the now sad Harry, and sympathetic Jack, he continued. "The other property the Potter Manor, located in Gloucestershire, is in good condition, following the death of the former Head of House, Charlus Potter."

" _Okay so, one; it was Charlus, not Fleamont – Cool. Although not canon. I'm not sure what that means about the rest of this world. Two; Potter Manor?"_ Jack thought, mentally. _"I don't remember that one… But then again, it makes sense that Charlus and Dorea didn't live with James and Lily."_

"Could you give us a bit more information on Potter Manor, Ripclaw?" Jack asked, wanting to fill the silence that had fallen over the room.

"Very well." The goblin replied, picking up another piece of parchment. "Ah, yes. Potter Manor is an 8-bedroom manor, with 2 acres of surrounding land, located in Gloucestershire, South-West England. Home to the former Lord Charlus Potter and Lady Dorea Potter, née Black; the manor is currently unoccupied beyond 3 house elves, Fabby, Dotty, and Timsy, who maintain the manor."

Ignoring Harry's questioning glance, Jack turned to him and said, "Harry, I think it would be best if we went to Potter Manor."

Harry nodded, agreeing. "Ripclaw, how can we get to Potter Manor?"

Ripclaw looked at yet another parchment, before responding. "There are two ways you can access the manor. We can either provide you with a portkey, at a cost, or we can provide you with the floo address, as it appears the Potter elves have maintained the floo access and continued paying floo tax to the ministry."

" _So that's one of the ways the ministry makes money. I suppose that makes sense,"_ Jack mused.

Harry looked at Jack with an expression that screamed 'Help!', so Jack smoothly interjected. "Could we please have the floo address?" Turning to Harry, Jack added, "We can floo from the Leaky Cauldron, after we get something to eat."

"Very well, the floo address is: 'Stinchcombe Pottery'." Grinning sharply again, Ripclaw added, "I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that the wardstone hasn't been active in many years, and would likely need updating and reactivating."

Jack looked warily at the goblin, before asking, "And Gringotts can provide this service, for a cost?" Ripclaw nodded in response, turning to look Harry.

Jack did the same. "Harry, we'll definitely need wards to make sure the manor is protected. I would take Ripclaw up on his offer."

Harry agreed. "Could you deduct the required funds from the family vault?"

Ripclaw shook his head, "I'm afraid not, mister Potter. You are unable to interact with the vault under you reach your majority. The rings are the only exception. Do not worry about money, your trust vault has more than enough to cover the cost."

Harry nodded. "Please do that then." Ripclaw made another note on a piece of parchment. "This service can be provided by 3 Gringotts' employees next weekend, if that's acceptable?"

"It is." "How will they arrive? By floo, or by portkey?" Came two responses, one after another.

"Very well then; 3 human employees will arrive by portkey, at 11 o'clock in the morning, on Saturday, August 8th."

Nodding, Jack added, "Should we extend the offer to yourself to see the grounds, and perhaps discuss further business House Potter has with Gringotts?"

Ripclaw nodded decisively, "That would be most useful, and I can foresee many future business opportunities available for House Potter."

Deciding to switch up the conversation, Jack asked: "Does Gringotts offer a magical money bag, or anything like that?"

"Gringotts does, for a small fee, we can offer that to mister Potter." At Harry's nod, Ripclaw scribbled something on another piece of parchment, which promptly disappeared once he'd finished.

"I think that's all my questions for today, Ripclaw." Harry said, as he leaned back into the seat.

"Actually, I have one last question, Ripclaw, although it's a more personal question related to my situation, but I was wondering if Gringotts could assist me." Ripclaw nodded, giving Jack non-verbal permission to ask his question.

The following question garnered the biggest reaction they had received from Ripclaw, or any goblin for that matter, so far.

"I am a time-traveller from over 20 years in the future. How can Gringotts assist me?"


	4. A Discussion of Magic

Hopefully this chapter signals the end (or the beginning of the end) of the dialogue-heavy chapters, which is something I've noticed in the previous few.

Definitely not late on this chapter either...

Enjoy!

* * *

Ripclaw looked visibly stunned for a second, before actually snarling and slamming down on a large white button. The button flashed red briefly, as did the 3 office doors.

"Please forgive me, I was quite surprised that a time-traveller would come to Gringotts first, rather than your Ministry. I have merely sealed the doors to the office and turned off any conversation recording magics." Ripclaw said, by way of explanation.

"I am now declaring this conversation need-to-know, only the Goblin King, or the Head of the Bank will be allowed to know of this conversation." Ripclaw formally informed the pair.

What Ripclaw didn't inform them was that the Goblin King and the Head of Gringotts were titles held by the same goblin – King Ragnok.

Ripclaw also didn't say that Gringotts would consider this a victory over the Wizarding ministry. The documents created here today would need to be sent to the ministry, when the time-traveller inevitably needed to formalise his identity as a British wizard, meaning the ministry would need to come to Gringotts.

"This merely ensures security and your safety during your stay here at Gringotts. I hope this will give you peace of mind, in the event that your status as a time-traveller is leaked to the public, that Gringotts was not at fault." Ripclaw said, looking sharply at Jack.

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness on the issue, Ripclaw. With that in mind, if my status does become public knowledge, rest assured I will not find fault with Gringotts." Jack replied, just as formally.

"Now that is out of the way," Jack started, relaxing slightly, "I have no proof of my identity as a British citizen, or British wizard. Would Gringotts be able to assist me in creating my identity, or would I have to go to the Ministry of Magic for this?"

Jack smirked internally. He knew the goblins would love to get one over on the ministry, considering how poorly they get treated. It was highly likely the goblins would do everything in their power to assist him, before he made the daunting visit to the Ministry – or maybe even the Department of Mysteries – to register his status as a time-traveller.

"Gringotts will be able to assist you in creating a magical identity, mister…?" Ripclaw started. "Starburn." Jack interjected, at Ripclaw's verbal hint.

"Mister Starburn, Gringotts can set up the basis for a magical identity, that can be requested by the ministry at any time. We require some of your blood, and a small fee."

"Done." Harry interjected, before Jack could respond. "We need to get you all set-up here, before we go over to the ministry at some point."

Jack nodded, surprised that Harry was thinking that far ahead. _"I guess I should give him a bit more credit."_

"With regards to a muggle identity, how difficult would it be for me to acquire one," Jack asked, curiously.

"It is likely that your Ministry would be able to create a muggle identity for you, Mr. Starburn. Gringotts will unfortunately be unable to provide you with one." Ripclaw replied, grimacing at the thought of losing out to the ministry, before offering a knife to Jack.

Jack took the knife, knowing he was safe to present his blood here.

Ripclaw set down a large basin on the table in front of him – which looked a bit like the upper part of a birdbath, except the rim was adorned with strange symbols – and said; "Make sure your blood falls into this bowl, the cut will seal itself once we have enough."

Surprised at the magics at work, Jack cut himself on the knife, wincing slightly as his palm split open and blood trickled down his hand, before dripping alarmingly fast into the basin below.

A few seconds later, Jack felt a tickling sensation as the skin on his hand knitted itself up, leaving no evidence that there had ever been a cut there in the first place.

Harry and Jack watched as a blood-red mist rose from the basin, casting strange, seemingly undecipherable, patterns in the air that changed every few seconds.

Ripclaw however, appeared to have no trouble reading the strange writing.

" _Although the frowning doesn't look good."_ Thought Jack.

Ripclaw paused in his writing and looked up sharply at Jack. "Mister Starburn, I've seen many different beings during my time, yet you are something different."

Jack jumped in, before Harry could say something, "Perhaps you could elaborate a bit, Ripclaw, I find myself at a bit of a loss here."

Sending him a sharp look, Ripclaw did exactly as asked. "Initially, the magics struggled to record your parentage, but it finally gave me a few names. Can I presume your father is 'Michael Christopher Starburn'? And your mother is 'Michelle Tracey Starburn'?"

His heart-rate increasing slightly, Jack felt his blood rush at hearing the names of his parents. Willing himself to focus on the present, and not the past… Or the future… Jack replied in the affirmative.

"No siblings?"

An awkward silence filled the air, as a distraught expression appeared over Jack's face.

"No, no, that can't be right. Two… I have two brothers. Samuel, and Archibald…"

Frowning further still, Ripclaw spat something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. "Understandable. Time-travel is a messy business. I'm guessing that your two brothers were born after 1992?"

Jack nodded, unwilling to divulge that he too, was born after 1992.

"Very well, moving on. We can detect your magical core. However, it is… Unusual, to say the least."

Jack and Harry both frowned in confusion, and Harry blurted something out before Jack could stop him: "But, you could see the Leaky Cauldron, and the Knight Bus. So, you're not a muggle or anything, right?"

Horrified at the thought of the goblins realising that he had knowledge of the future of the wizarding world, Jack interjected, "I told you, Harry, I was a muggle before all of this happened. I can't explain why I would have a magical core now. Especially as I couldn't use your wand."

"It seems, mister Starburn, that you were what the Ministry would call a _Squib_. A being with a magical core, but no ability to do magic, although you can interact with many forms of magic, such as object already imbued with magic."

An interruption to the conversation came in the form of another bauble on Ripclaw's desk lighting up a bright green colour.

Huffing slightly, Ripclaw pressed another button, and the side door slid open, allowing a heavily scarred goblin to hobble into the room.

The goblin handed Ripclaw a small black bag, grumbled something that neither of the pair could hear, before turning and hobbling out the same door he entered.

Ripclaw turned to look at Harry, before saying, "This is your 'magical money bag', as you called it earlier. The cost has been deducted from your Trust vault. It has been filled with 1,000 Galleons, taken from your Trust vault."

Handing the bag over to Harry, Ripclaw continued: "Simply open this bag, tap the rim and incant, 'Mensio'. The bag will then show you an accurate account of the money held within."

Turning back towards Jack, Ripclaw said: "We've created the necessary documents regarding your magical identity. However, our own magics identify your status as _Unknown_ , rather than _Wizard_ , _Squib,_ or _Muggle_."

That brought Jack up short. He'd expected to be labelled a Squib, or Muggleborn with particularly weak magic. What the heck did _Unknown_ mean?

"This question might sound redundant, but do you have any idea what _Unknown_ could mean?"

At hearing Jack's question, Ripclaw frowned further. "It simply means our magics have never come across something like you in the history of Goblin Identification magic. We have no records to reference from. You are something… New."

Ignoring their surprised, but confused faces, Ripclaw continued: "This could simply be your status as a Squib-like Muggleborn, or something different entirely. A different kind of magic user that we've yet to come across. If it is a new kind of magic, I suggest you come back here to register your status with us once you have discovered it."

"I certainly will," Jack replied instantly. "Thank you for your time today, Ripclaw. We shall see you next weekend."

"August 8th." Ripclaw confirmed, as he stood, stepping away from his desk. "I will show the both of you out."

Following the goblin out of the office, and through the many corridors of Gringotts, Jack and Harry eventually found themselves back in the main hall.

Turning to the pair, Ripclaw stated formally: "Our business has now concluded. I hope you found Gringotts to be satisfactory on this occasion."

Harry surprised Jack by taking the lead by bowing, before saying, "Gringotts has been most satisfactory, thank you, Ripclaw."

Jack bowed as well. "Heir Potter and I thank you, and Gringotts, for your hospitality during our time here. Business was fruitful, and I'm sure there will be many new opportunities open between us and Gringotts in the future."

Smiles were exchanged between the group – a tooth-filled one from the goblin and closed-mouth ones from the two humans – before Harry and Jack left the bank.

"That was weird." Harry's first comment as they left the bank did not surprise Jack.

The goblins were less viscous than Jack had expected them to be, based on his knowledge of canon, and some of the horror stories he'd read from various fanfiction writers. Then again, he was with Harry, and the House of Potter was likely a wealthy client.

" _Very wealthy."_ Jack thought, thinking back on the number Ripclaw had provided the pair. Fifty-two Million Galleons. Jack hadn't exactly got a frame of reference for the local economy and how much things cost yet, but that seemed like enough to last a couple of lifetimes. _"Or perhaps last 1 very old Wizard a lifetime."_ He mused.

Then there was the whole 'House of Potter' thing. The fact they were a Most Ancient and Noble House wasn't all that surprising, although the Sacred Twenty-Eight thing was interesting, even if House Potter wasn't one. He'd have to quiz Harry's knowledge of it all at some point soon. Although he doubted Harry knew a lot. The pair of them definitely had some research to do.

"Any questions should wait until we reach the manor. We can talk about mundane stuff over some food. Sound good?" Jack asked, in reply.

Harry nodded, "I have a lot of questions, but I suppose I can wait a bit longer."

The pair made their way back down the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. Both of them attempted to ignore the many questions that plagued their minds, although their questions were radically different from one another.

Harry decided to voice one of the things on his mind: "I think we need to get you some temporary robes, in case people start looking at you funny."

Harry had a good point. Already, Jack had noticed the stares of the few wizards and witches that were wandering through the alley. There would be a lot more stares if people started to recognise Harry. If only he'd gotten some robes on the way to Gringotts…

Fortunately, Jack remembered there was a small junk shop nearby, which sold things like old cloaks, and robes. Harry and Hermione had gone there during their… 3rd year?

A few short minutes later, and a small argument over money, Jack and Harry left the shop with Jack wearing a 2nd hand robe and some darker, loose-fitting trousers.

They'd also bought a small bag with a space-expansion charm on it, which currently contained Jack's previous clothes, and the non-electrical items he'd bought with him. Jack didn't trust the bag with his phone and was mildly surprised it hadn't exploded already with all the surrounding magic. It was fortunate they hadn't needed to actually go to any of Harry's vaults; going through the Thief's Downfall, or some other similar Goblin magics, would have definitely fucked Jack's phone up.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, both of them deep in thought, the pair arrived at the entrance to the alley. Fortunately, it was already open, as neither of them knew how to open it from this side of the alley. _Was it the same series of taps? Was it in reverse? Or something different entirely?_

Quickly stepping through before it closed on them, the pair walked through the courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron, and entered the pub.

Once inside, they walked over to Tom, who had noticed them enter and rushed to the end of the bar closest to the courtyard.

"Alright lads?" The barman asked, eying Jack suspiciously.

"We're good, thanks Tom," Harry said in reply, "But we could use some food."

"Aye. I'll get ye' a menu." Jack nodded in thanks, surprised the pub even had a menu.

The trio, led by Tom, walked over to one of the darker corners of the pub, illuminated only by dim candle-light. Finally seated on some surprisingly comfortable chairs, Jack finally allowed himself to relax slightly. He'd been tense during the entire adventure, but thankfully the main portion of their immediate tasks was complete.

They quickly ordered some food from Tom, two Steak and Kidney pies with chips, and two Butterbeers, on Jack's recommendation. Harry gave Tom 2 Galleons and told him to keep the change.

"So…" Harry started, ignoring Jack's sudden sharp look, "Tell me about the family status thing, because I don't get it."

Jack couldn't contain the surprise he felt. "Really? Of all the things, that's what you ask about?"

Harry gave him a glare in response, before glumly taking a sip of his butterbeer. "Well, it's not like I can ask about anything important, is it?" Harry paused slightly, considering the taste of the drink. "Hey, this is actually pretty good."

Chuckling, Jack understood his point. "Okay, fair enough. Let's see, what do I know about all that?"

Jack decided the best place to start would be different house titles, and their meanings, as well as the Sacred Twenty-Eight, before moving onto the Wizengamot, and the different political blocks.

"From my understanding, there are four titles a house – which is basically a family – can have; Ancient, Noble, Most Ancient, and Most Noble. I don't know about Ancient, Most Ancient, or Noble, but as Ripclaw explained earlier, Most Noble was a recent title given to a bunch of Pure Blood families in the Wizengamot at the time."

"I don't know how titles are assigned, but I presume it's one of the duties of the Wizengamot." Jack added, thoughtfully.

"An example of a prominent family would be the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy, whom you might be familiar with." Here, Jack winked at Harry, who shot him a disgruntled look in return. "The Malfoy family came to Britain during the Battle of Hastings, way back in 1066. And as they were on the Sacred Twenty-Eight list they get the title of _Most Noble_."

"What's the Wizengamot? Ripclaw mentioned it a couple of times as well." Harry asked curiously, seemingly wanting to genuinely learn about wizarding culture and history.

"Wizarding Politics isn't my strong suit, but I'm going to make an effort to learn what I can in the future. But for now, think of it like this: The laws are proposed, debated and confirmed there. Criminal trials are also held before the Wizengamot."

An older Wizard on the table next to Harry and Jack's, who had been quietly listening to the conversation up to this point, chimed in: "The lad is right. The Wizengamot is split into three main voting blocs; The _Traditionalists_ , who are basically blood purists, led by that swine Lucius Malfoy. The _Progressives_ , who are Dumbledore's lot, are pretty much the opposite. And finally, the _Centrists_ , usually led by Cyrus Greengrass; they're more neutral on most topics, but have the power to make or break policies proposed by either side."

"Could you tell me the names of any more prominent families within the Centrists? I'm aware of most of the Traditionalist and Progressive families, such as Nott, Zabini, and Parkinson from the former, as well as Longbottom, and Weasley from the Progressives." Jack replied, curious to see if there were any families he recognised.

Harry perked up when he heard Jack say the latter 2 names. _"Must be relatives of Neville, and Ron."_ He thought.

"As I mentioned lad, Cyrus Greengrass is the figurehead of the party, but some more prominent members would be Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE; Lorcan Goldstein, who owns a large muggle gold investment company, works closely with the goblins, I hear; and Tyler Davis, one half of 'Davis & Macmillans' - they supply shops like Madam Malkin's, and Twilfitt and Tatting's."

" _The 'Golden Year' is right then. So many Heirs, or members of prominent families, are in Harry's year at Hogwarts. Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan, and Anthony Goldstein. And those are just the obvious ones. That's a good chunk of the Sacred Twenty-Eight too!"_

Fortunately, in Harry's opinion, or unfortunately in Jack's, their food arrived before Jack could reply with more questions, and the old Wizard left them to it.

"We need to find out everything we can when we get home," Jack said, quietly. Harry began to smile at the thought of having a proper home. Number 4 Privet Drive would never be a home to him.

"What are you going to do about…" Harry started, before trailing off. Jack understood what he was trying to say, but only shook his head in response.

The pair finished their food in silence, and with a "Time to go" from Jack, and a nod towards the old wizard on the table next to them, Harry and Jack moved towards the fireplace.

"Alrighty kiddo, I'll go first, since you've never done this before, _and neither have I_ ," Jack said, muttering the last part.

"All you have to do is grab a handful of Floo Powder, and throw half into the fireplace, wait for the flames to turn green. Then step into the fireplace and turn to face the room. Then throw the rest of it at your feet, and clearly say the name of the place we're going to." Jack said, pointing at the Floo Powder bowl on the fireplace mantle-piece.

"Don't worry about keeping the floo address a secret, the fireplace has a silencing bubble around it, to protect the user's privacy, and to keep the other patrons from being disturbed by the fire." Jack finished, before adding, "You'll see what I mean by that in a second," at Harry's confused look.

Jack confidently walked up to the fireplace and dipped his hand into the Floo Powder bowl. Grabbing a hand full of the powder, which felt like particularly heavy sand, Jack threw roughly half into the yellow flames of the fireplace.

As if by magic, the flames _whooshed_ , and turned a brilliant green. With a stiff back, and an attempt to hide his own nervousness, Jack strode into the fire.

Surprisingly, he didn't feel anything. He looked down and saw a grate below his feet, which contained some logs which appeared to fuel the fire. Looking up and directly at Harry, Jack threw the rest of the Floo Powder at his feet, and at the same time clearly incanted: "Stinchcombe Pottery."

With a roar, the green flames rushed up over Jack's body and to the top of the fireplace. By the time they had receded, Jack had disappeared in the flames.

Harry was suddenly glad there was a bubble of silence around the fireplace, as he was unable to hide his cry of surprise when Jack vanished, and merely watched for a moment as the flames settled down into a soft yellow fire.

Nervously, he grabbed his own handful of powder. Remembering his instructions, Harry threw roughly half into the flames, watching as they once again turned green.

Stepping into the fire, he too was surprised to find there was no pain, no feeling at all.

Clearing his throat, unwilling for there to be any sort of mess up, Harry thought about the idea of having a proper home. "Stinchcombe Pottery," he nearly shouted, throwing the rest of the Floo Powder at the flames between his feet.

With another roar, his world turned green, as he too was whisked away.


	5. A Fancy Old House

I was rather excited for this chapter, and it ended up coming out fairly close to what I'd imagined, which is - thankfully - slightly longer than the previous few chapters. A fair bit of dialogue though, but certainly a better mix than the last few.

Thanks to the few reviewers that have already given their opinions on this story!

And now, on with the chapter!

* * *

The world was spinning faster and faster, as a whirlwind of colours flew by. So many different shades of green, and even a few purples.

Harry barely managed to compose himself in time to step out when he saw the black grate appear. Not knowing he was supposed to brace and slightly bend his knees, Harry flew out of the floo, and ended up sprawled on the floor of a rather large, dusty living room.

Getting to his feet, and wiping his face of the dust, Harry looked around and saw a very unexpected sight.

Jack trussed up, like a fly caught in a spider's web, hanging upside down in the middle of the room, red-faced and shouting – but no sound was coming out of his mouth.

Harry made to step over to him, but was interrupted by a popping sound, which preceded the appearance of a small, grey looking creature, in a rather fancy looking outfit.

"Welcome back, Master Harry. We've been expecting you for many years now." The creature said, dipping into a formal bow.

"Err– Hi." Harry replied nervously, surprised by the suddenness of the action, and Jack's current predicament.

"Could you, umm– Let my friend down?" Harry asked, uncertainly. The creature instantly complied, snapping its fingers, which caused Jack to fall bodily to the floor, fortunately landing on his back, not his head.

Jack mouthed something likely rather vulgar, as he rolled to his feet.

Harry winced, before saying, "Oops. Maybe I should have worded that better. Why can't I hear you?"

A rather deep-sounding voice was heard from nearby, although Harry couldn't pinpoint where from. "He's been silenced by Fabby, young Harry. You'll need to ask Fabby to remove his magic from your friend."

Startled, Harry looked around the room, but couldn't see anyone else. With an uncertain look, he turned back to the newly-named Fabby, and asked him to 'unsilence' Jack.

"Of course, Master Harry." Fabby replied, and with a second snap of its fingers, Jack could suddenly be heard:

"Ow! Jesus! Mother f'er, that hurt!"

Ignoring the snickering Harry could hear from… Somewhere, he turned to Jack. "What is going on here?"

"Blasted elves." Jack said in lieu of a reply, eyeing Fabby with a dirty look, before getting to his feet.

"I came through the floo and failed to _satisfactorily_ identify myself to Fabby – one of the elves that Ripclaw mentioned – so he tied me up, presumably because he thought I was breaking into Potter Manor."

 _"Oh yeah."_ Harry thought. _"Ripclaw did say something about elves; Fabby, Dotty, and Timsy, I think?"_

"So, Ripclaw is still knocking about then? Good for him, he did always serve House Potter well." The same voice again came. Harry thought he saw one of the portraits on the wall move but couldn't be sure.

Jack once again took up the lead in the conversation. "Ignoring the talking artwork for a moment, Harry, it's best if you call all the elves and get reacquainted," he said, ignoring the outraged noise that came from said painting.

Harry had managed to locate the talking painting and gasped audibly. He'd seen that face once before, in the Mirror of Erised. The man must have been a close relation.

Attempting to ignore him for a moment, he turned back to Jack, but once again looked uncertain.

"How exactly do I do that?" Harry asked, ignoring the now amused look on Jack's face.

"I forget you're new to this whole magic thing. Just call 'Dotty' and 'Timsy', and they'll come to you."

"Err–Okay." Harry cleared his throat, and then called out: "Dotty!", "Timsy!"

Twin pops echoed simultaneously around the room, as 3 elves were suddenly lined up in front of Harry.

"Master Harry!" Shouted the male of the two, while the female elf cried: "Master Harry has returned!"

The male elf that appeared, Timsy, was dressed in a somewhat similar way to Fabby, although Fabby looked far more formal in comparison. Timsy wore a pair of brown bottoms, and grey shirt.

The female elf, Dotty, looked far more like a maid, while the males looked like miniature butlers. Her dress was a striking shade of green, and she wore tiny black shoes.

"Can we sit down and discuss what to do next?" Harry asked. Jack nodded, taking a seat on one of the large, 4-seater sofas, while Harry picked the comfy looking armchair.

Harry looked rather confused as to why the elves had yet to move, and raised a questioning eyebrow at Fabby, who responded with, "We will stand, thank you, Master Harry," as well as a dip of his head.

Shrugging, Harry turned back to Jack, to cede the direction of the conversation over to him.

"It's your show now, kiddo. What do you want to do? Discuss the manor with the elves? Find out what you need to do now you're here? Talk to some of the portraits to learn about your family?"

Harry thought hard for a minute about what he wanted to do now. He wasn't used to being in control of his life, usually being where someone else told him to be. This level of control was different, and new, but he couldn't say he didn't like the idea of having a bit of control over his life, even something as small as this.

Turning to address the elves, he said, "I'm not sure if I've ever been here before, but it was only a year ago that I found out I was magical." A loud gasp came from two of the portraits on the wall above the fireplace.

Harry quickly turned to them and asked rather bluntly, "Okay, since you clearly want to talk, who are you?"

The female of the pair turned to face the portrait to her right, and said; "Oh Charlus, he doesn't even remember us."

Sighing, the male portrait replied, "So it seems. Young man, I'm not sure how much of your history you know, but I'm your paternal grandfather, Charlus Potter. This lovely witch next to me is your paternal grandmother, and my wife, Dorea Potter."

Slightly shocked, and unprepared for the fact he'd have such close relations available to speak to, Harry got to his feet and walked over to the pair and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "Do–Did… Did my parents make paintings of themselves?"

Charlus adopted a frown, while Dorea wore a rather sad look, which looked very out of place on the formidable witch formally of the Black family, in Jack's opinion.

"I'm afraid they did not. After all, nobody expects to die so young… Especially not James." Came the deep voice of Harry's grandfather.

"Portraits…" Jack's voice startled Harry out of his reverie, "They only retain a copy of the essence of the individual they're created from, not the real thing. I'm sorry Harry, but even if James or Lily created a magical painting of themselves, they wouldn't really be your parents, only magical mimicry."

"Your friend is right, Harry. But despite that, we are a copy of your grandparents, and can offer the same advice or thoughts as they themselves would." Dorea added.

"I understand, I think," Harry replied, sniffling slightly at he emotional rollercoaster he just experienced.

"So," Charlus started, with a rather suspicious look, "Who is your friend?"

Looking to Jack for confirmation, and receiving an immediate nod in return, Harry replied, "Jack is a time-traveller from the future with knowledge of my future. He's helping me out, and I'm helping him out."

With identical shocked looks, Dorea choked out, "I was under the impression time-travel mainly operated in a closed-loop, often in minor jumps of travel, mostly only a few hours at a time. How many years in the future are you from?"

Jack's response of "26 years", was not what the portraits expected, and their shocked looks didn't dissipate.

"Impossible." Charlus uttered, receiving a sharp look from his wife, who said, "Not impossible, dear. Just improbable."

Looking back at Jack, Dorea shot him a piercing look and said, "This isn't a closed-loop, so presumably your travel has caused a split in the original timeline, and we are now on a different path than we would have been."

"Yes, that was my guess as well. However, I'm looking to keep the timeline mostly intact, changing only minor things so I can control most events I have foreknowledge of."

"Playing with time is a dangerous thing, young man, I hope you're ready to accept the consequences when things fall outside of your expectations," Charlus warned.

Jack simply nodded in reply. He'd expected things to change, likely dramatically, now that the timeline had been altered.

"Even the fact that my interference has introduced Harry to Potter Manor at least 5 years earlier than he was supposed to, has changed events dramatically. But as I said before, I'll be attempting to keep the timeline as intact as I can."

"Young Harry wasn't supposed to come here until he was 17?" Replied an outraged Charlus. "He was supposed to be brought here a year ago, upon reaching his eleventh birthday, at the latest!"

Jack opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Dorea. "No matter now, Harry is here and he's fine. We can't change what happened in another timeline, but we can change this one, and Jack has already done so. We are in your debt, young man."

But Jack waved their thanks off. "Harry is already helping me out with a place to stay and food to eat; helping him find his place in the world was the least I could do."

Harry put his hand up, directly in the middle of the trio's conversation. "I'm lost. I mean, I think I followed along, but I still feel lost."

"Okay, then let's make a plan of action, so we don't feel lost and out of control, sound good?"

"Okay, what do we need to do?" Harry asked.

"It's the 31st of July, so we've got a month before you go back to Hogwarts. In that time, I suggest we… Get your trunk from the Dursleys, go shopping in Diagon, go and see your friends, get me registered at the ministry, and make sure everything is good here before you go back to school. Although not necessarily in that order. Sound like a plan?" Jack asked, as he counted the items off on his fingers.

Harry nodded, "That sounds good to me. How do we get my stuff from the Dursleys?"

Jack eyed the elves out the corner of his eye. "I suspect the elves will be able to help. Although I believe elf travel requires them to have been someplace before they can travel there, perhaps one of them went with Lily when she visited her sister…"

"Master's friend would be incorrect. Elves can travel anywhere with our master's will and permission."

Jack opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, as his face adopted a thinking look. "Yes… I suppose that makes sense. Dobby had never visited No. 4 Privet Drive before, after all."

At the same time as Harry questioned, "Who is Dobby?", a large gong chime echoed around the manor, as the room flashed red briefly.

Simultaneously, all 3 elves straightened, before popping away from the room in unison. Moments later, they reappeared, this time with a 4th elf floating unconsciously in-between them.

"Uhhh… What?" Harry and Jack said at the same time.

"Someone not keyed into the wards tried to gain entry, via apparition; specifically, elf apparition." Charlus offered, as he eyed the elf suspiciously.

"I suggest we wake him up, and see what he wants, Harry," Jack said, before turning to the trio of elves, "Can you three contain him?"

An almost offended silence was quickly broken by the rapid nodding from Dotty and Timsy, while Fabby snapped his fingers. Harry and Jack watched in amazement as thick-looking white chains appeared out of nowhere, wrapping around Dobby, anchoring him in place.

With another snap of Fabby's fingers, Dobby was awake, and struggling with all his might.

"Harry, tell Dobby to calm down. I have a feeling he just might listen to you."

Accepting Jack's words, Harry turned and repeated the command to Dobby. The struggling elf suddenly ceased his previous actions, causing everyone's eyebrows to raise in surprise.

"Ask him why he's here."

Harry did just that.

"Dobby has come here to meet you, Harry Potter – Such an honour, it is. Dobby has come to warn the great Harry Potter. Dobby couldn't find Harry Potter, and was worried, but then Dobby's name was called, and Dobby found Harry Potter."

"Okay Harry, this is a good teaching point. Based on what Dobby just said, can you understand why some of the older generation of magic users might be afraid to use Lord Voldemort's name?"

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, before seeming to understand. "Because magic can somehow track people who say certain names?"

"Not just names, Harry. Powerful rituals can place what are called 'Taboos' on certain words. If I was part of the DMLE, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I'd place a Taboo on certain words like _Fiendfyre_ or the names or incantations of particularly dark pieces of magic. I wouldn't be surprised to find out the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes had a Taboo specifically aimed at non-magical people for words like _magic_ , _wand_ , or _Hogwarts_ , etc."

"That's crazy," Harry responded, attempting to understand the ramifications of such magic.

"That's magic." Replied Jack, who turned to look at Dobby. "Now then, I know for a fact that Dobby here has been intercepting your post; letters from your friends, and possibly Gringotts – the latter of which is likely to be against some kind of magical law – so I suggest you order him to hand the letters over."

"Dobby, if you have any letters you've stolen from me, I want them back right now."

Dobby slowly reached into the rags he wore, and pulled out a stack of bulging letters, seemingly from nowhere – Although Jack knew it to be magic that had hidden them from plain sight.

"Dobby is sorry for taking the letters from Harry Potter. Dobby thought that it might make Harry Potter not want to go back to Hogwarts this year, if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten about him."

 _"Christ, this is surreal."_ Jack muttered. He watched a scene he'd read many times literally acted out in front of him.

Harry quickly snatched the stack of parchment out of the unresisting elf's hands.

"Now Dobby, why don't you tell the great Harry Potter why you don't want him to go back to Hogwarts this year." Jack said, looking highly amused at the almost disgusted look on Harry's face, at being called 'the great Harry Potter'.

Dobby nodded his head rapidly, his large ears flopping back and forth, and causing the chains to rattle. "There are dark and terrible things that are going to happen at Hogwarts this year. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

Before Dobby could build up any steam, Jack intervened. "Harry will be going back to Hogwarts this year, and there's nothing you can do to convince him otherwise. This manor is well protected, and will protect Harry while he's not at Hogwarts, and there are many well-trained professors, including the Headmaster, to protect Harry while he is at Hogwarts. So, I suggest you go back to your master and act like you were never here, Dobby the House Elf."

Dobby's eyes were wide at Jack's words, but he still retorted with, "Dobby knows of the Hogwarts professors, and the great Albus Dumbledore, but there are powers at work that even those who protect Hogwarts would falter against…" Dobby trailed off, looking imploringly at Harry.

Jack was having none of it though, as he rolled his eyes and scoffed loudly. "I'm well aware of the plot against Hogwarts this coming year, Dobby, and rest assured Harry will be fine. Go back to your Master; Harry will be safe this coming year at Hogwarts, I assure you."

Jack really didn't want to tell Dobby anything about what he knew, because Lucius could force it out of him at any time, but it might be necessary to say something to get Dobby to leave. Granted, the Potter elves could force Dobby out – and probably keep him out – but that wouldn't stop Dobby coming after Harry during the school year, which was something Jack wanted to avoid, if possible.

"Dobby doesn't believe Harry Potter's friend. The great Harry Potter is too noble, too good to be sacrificed. He must be protected!" Dobby stood as tall as he could, despite being held by the might of all 3 Potter elves.

Jack sighed, knowing he'd have to say some things he'd rather not in order to reassure Dobby.

"Dobby, I know your master, Lucius Malfoy, has plans for this coming school year. I'm aware of them, and I'm taking steps to ensure Harry will remain safe during Hogwarts this year."

Shocked silence from both Harry and Dobby had Jack second-guessing his decision, but he was rewarded moments later by the slumped form of Dobby, who had relaxed in relief. "You truly know of what is to come? Harry Potter will be protected? Thank goodness."

"What? Malfoy? Draco's father?" Came the flurry of questions from Harry.

"Harry, stop and think. If Dobby's master is Lucius Malfoy – yes, Draco's father – think about why I'd rather not say anything in front of Dobby, based on what you know about house elves."

 _"Lucius could find out… Through Dobby…"_ Harry muttered, a large frown on his face.

"Dobby is taking steps in order to not be caught." Dobby offered, but Jack shook his head. "Sorry Dobby, we can't take the risk. But if we ever manage to free you from the Malfoy family, we could let you help Harry properly then."

Dobby looked forlorn, his ears drooping slightly, and Harry felt immensely sad for the poor elf. "Dobby understands he is a liability," Dobby said, before perking up. "Master Malfoy must not find out where Dobby has been. Dobby will cover his tracks thoroughly."

Jack smiled at Dobby. The first and only time he had cried while watching Harry Potter was when Dobby died during the end of the 'Deathly Hallows: Part 1', and he had a soft spot for the poor elf. However, right now they couldn't risk Lucius finding out about him and his future knowledge this early.

"Don't worry Dobby, I'm sure there will be an opportunity to help the great Harry Potter in the future. But for now, go back to what you were doing, and try not to cause Lucius to get suspicious."

"Dobby understands. Dobby will heed the advice of Harry Potter's friend-". "I'm Jack Starburn," Jack interjected. Dobby nodded. "Dobby will heed the advice of Harry Potter's Starburny." And suddenly, Dobby disappeared with a snap of his fingers, surprising the 3 elves who should have been containing him.

"Starburny… He called me fucking _Starburny_. Unbelievable." Jack quietly uttered, holding the bridge of his nose.

Harry simply laughed. "You know you're going to have to explain what's going on now, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. First, order your damn elves to call me Jack, or Master Starburn; I refuse to be called Starburny." Jack said, getting another laugh out of Harry, who did as asked.

The elves nodded, and a few moments later, Timsy popped away after Harry reiterated his previous order to collect his magical trunk from the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive.

Mere seconds later, Timsy returned with a quiet pop, and brought with him Harry's school trunk.

"That was easy." Harry said, his eyes flicking back and forth from his trunk and Timsy.

"You'll find that magic makes a lot of things easy. House elves are quite intelligent; knowing how to get into places, and how to stay unnoticed. You didn't even need to order Timsy to stay unseen."

As Harry stayed quiet, deep in thought, Jack turned to look at the portraits of the former Lord and Lady of House Potter. "Charlus, Dorea, are there any pressing matters that need to be taken care of here at the manor?"

Charlus looked thoughtful. "Well, the wards need powering up and updating. Unfortunately, the wardstone needs a witch or wizard to remain powered and protect the manor, and it's been over a decade since it was last active."

"We've already got that sorted. Ripclaw offered, at a cost, Gringotts ward experts to come over next weekend to sort them out.

"I have a question about the wards, actually. Since they aren't powered up, how did they activate when Dobby appeared?" Jack asked, half expecting Dobby to appear again once his name was mentioned. But thankfully, he didn't.

Charlus glanced at Dorea, "Technically, the wards are still… working, for lack of a better term. But there's a difference between the passive wards that are working now, and the active wards that the manor would need if it came under attack."

"Ah okay, so passive wards like anti-apparition are active now?"

"Yes. I didn't want to use the word 'active', because it might be confusing when we're talking about active and passive wards. But essentially yes, the passive wards are active, the active wards aren't," Charlus said, before adding. "In addition, Harry won't be able to activate the active wards while the wardstone is offline. Honestly, I'm surprised the wardstone hasn't completely drained in the decade it hasn't had magic to syphon."

"Let's hope it lasts another week then." Jack commented, as he turned back to Harry, who had been listening to the conversation intently.

"Not to worry, we're likely safe here for another week without you being in control of the wards. Best to wait for the experts from Gringotts to guide us next weekend, rather than charging in ourselves and likely messing something up."

"Okay then. Now, what's up with Hogwarts? What's going to happen?" Harry asked, as he sat in the armchair, his hands fiddling with the string that Dobby had used to bind his letters together.

Jack sighed, as he wondered how much to tell Harry. How much to affect the timeline this early. He decided to settle with part of the information, but not the full story. Harry still needed to destroy the diary, but there were some things Jack could do to speed along the process.

"Lucius Malfoy intends to use a magical artefact to open the Chamber of Secrets, which is said to contain Salazar's 'beast'."

A shocked gasp came from Charlus and Dorea. "The Chamber was opened once before, back in 1942 and 43'. Remember, Dora'? That was right around the time I sold the rights of production for Sleekeazy's to Michael Macmillan."

 _"I thought it was Fleamont that created that potion? God, this is confusing."_

"You invented Sleekeazy's?" Jack asked, curious about the tangent.

Charlus merely looked back at him in confusion. "No, my father, Fleamont Potter did. I merely sold the recipe and production rights to Michael, an old family ally. He and his business partner, Tyler Davis, manufacture the potion through Davis & Macmillans."

Jack's eyes grew wide. _"Talk about information overload! Fleamont was actually Charlus' father. And what the heck is Davis & Macmillans? The old fella from yesterday mentioned them too. So much research to do…."_

Harry quickly intervened, apparently not caring much for business talk. "Hello? Chamber of Secrets? Salazar Slytherin's beast? What is it?"

"We never actually found out. The Wizengamot was in uproar at the time, but it was mostly swept under the rug. The Minister at the time, Leonard Spencer-Moon, and Armando Dippet – who was the Hogwarts Headmaster back then – merely said that the perpetrator had been caught." Dorea chimed in.

Charlus spoke up, his expression dark. "Yes, we had other things to worry about back then, during Grindelwald's war."

"It's a Basilisk." Jack simply said, causing outraged sounds to come from the portraits.

"There's a bloody Basilisk at Hogwarts?!" Charlus thundered, while Dorea had her hand covering her mouth.

"What's a Basilisk?" Asked a confused Harry.

"The 4 sigils of the Hogwarts' houses are a Lion, a Badger, an Eagle, and a Snake. Now, with that in mind, what might Salazar's beast be?"

Rolling his eyes slightly, Harry asked, "So a Basilisk is a magical snake?"

"Yes. A magical snake that is around 1,000 years old, with the ability to kill by looking at you, and produces one of the most venomous toxins in the world. The Ministry class Basilisks as an 'XXXXX Creature'. In addition, she was enchanted via ritual during conception to only obey descendants of the Slytherin line. Scared yet?"

"O-okay. A little scared now. But we know what it is, so we can tell Professor Dumbledore, right?"

 _"Oh boy. Here we go."_ Jack thought.

"Okay, but then he's going to ask how you knew it was a basilisk. Then what?" Jack queried, genuinely curious how far Harry had thought ahead.

"Errr… I did some research and narrowed down the possibilities?"

Jack tilted his head back and forth. "Technically it's possible. Hermione was the one that found out, and told you, after all."

"Hermione found out? How?"

"By doing what you said; researching. Students – mostly muggleborns – were being attacked by something, and Hermione wanted to figure out what was behind the attacks."

"But can't we just stop Malfoy from using the artefact on the school?"

"Ah, no. The artefact doesn't work like that. It's a simple diary, that will take over the user's body and compel them to open the chamber."

"So, it's going to be a girl that opens the chamber, not Draco?" Harry asked. After all, not many boys had diaries.

"Yes. Now, think about Lucius Malfoy. The man is powerful; magically, politically, and economically. But while he doesn't really need more money, and this wouldn't exactly make him more powerful magically, so how could he use this event to his advantage politically?"

"He's the head of the Traditionalists, right? Maybe he wants to frame someone from the Progressives?"

"That's a good idea. Let's run with that. Hey, Charlus, let's say nothing has changed in the last 10 years. Who are the families within the Progressives?"

"Just the family seats, or the Order of Merlin seats as well?" Charlus asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Hmmm. Throw in the Order of Merlin seats as well." Jack responded. It would be a good idea to learn who they were as well.

"Well, let's see… There's the Potters, naturally. Albus Dumbledore, obviously. Augusta Longbottom, Eustace Fawley, Caradoc Dearborn, Ignatius Prewett, Septimus Weasley, Michael Macmillan, Eugene Slughorn, Shamar Shacklebolt, Gervaise Ollivander, and Elphias Doge. Those are the family seats. Panju Patil, Michael Bell, and Travis McKinnon are the Order of Merlin holders."

Jack winced slightly at the last of the names. He knew for a fact the entire McKinnon family had been wiped out during the war, so it was unlikely all of those people were still alive.

"So, Harry. Out of those names, I wager you recognise about half of them. Neville, Ron, Ernie, Parvati, and Padma are all in your year. And Katie Bell is a year ahead of you, and a Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. You obviously know the Headmaster, and Gervaise Ollivander is likely the father of the wandmaker, Garrick.

"With that in mind, who would you say is most susceptible to the magical artefact?"

Harry considered his answer for a moment. "Probably Parvati."

"Not Katie because she's older, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, by that logic, let's consider the students starting in the new year. A girl from one of those families would probably be more susceptible, yeah?"

"I suppose. But who is starting Hogwarts this year?

"Ginevra Molly Weasley."

Harry looked horrified. "Ron's little sister?"

"The animosity between your little gang, and Draco Malfoy is fairly well known. Now imagine if daddy Malfoy had to give Draco the artefact, in order for it to get into Hogwarts, with orders to Draco for it to fall into the hands of a 'light-sided' family. Who do you think Draco would pick?"

"That… That tosser! He'd pick Ron's sister!"

"Of course, it might not happen that way. Young Draco didn't exactly inherit the cunning of either of his parents. So, Lucius might happen upon an opportunity in say, Diagon Alley, to slip it into the pockets of one of his political opponents. But either way, you must keep an eye on Ginny this coming year."

"Can't I just tell Ron?"

"And what would you tell Ron? _'Hey Ron, I got some future knowledge, but I can't tell you how, but your sister is in danger!'_ You don't think he'd demand to know how his baby sister is in danger, and all the details involved? No, I suggest you let the plot play out. I have a couple of ideas about how you can deal with it."

"Like how?"

"Well, Ron's little sister was read a couple of very specific bedtime stories growing up. About 'Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived', if you know what I mean…"

Trying not to be too amused by Harry's horrified look, Jack clarified. "What I'm saying is, Ginny will likely be infatuated with you, and if you ask to see her diary, you can feign super-secret magical artefacts knowledge, and say something like, _'Wow Ginny, this is an incredibly dark artefact, disguised as a diary. Where did you get it? Would you mind if I took it to Headmaster Dumbledore?'_ "

The horrified expression left his face, but a rather reluctant one replaced it. "I suppose that could work, but I really don't want her to be obsessed with me."

"She's infatuated with the idea of the Boy-Who-Lived. Get to know her just like any other person, and that idea in her head will fade. Because the image that she's built up of you will never fit into reality."

"That's deep." Harry commented. Jack looked back at him incredulously. "Are you taking the piss outta me?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, a little bit." He then yawned, and added, "I'm tired."

"Let's call it a night here then."

Aided by the Potter elves, whom had yet to move from their spots at the side of the room. Jack and Harry had belatedly realised Harry hadn't ordered them to go back to whatever it was they were doing before.

After asking what each of the elves were responsible for; Timsy was the 'outdoor' elf, responsible for shopping, maintaining the manor's grounds, etc. Dotty was the 'indoor' elf, responsible for cooking, cleaning, and maintaining the manor itself. Fabby was the Lord's personal elf, dealing with the Lord's – or in this case, the Heir's – requests and needs directly.

So, while Dotty and Timsy popped away to do their duties, Fabby directed Harry and Jack to the east wing of the manor, which held the Master bedroom, as well as the 'Castellan's' bedroom, which Fabby recommended Jack stay in.

So with a few variations of 'Goodnight' aimed at each other and the elves, Jack and Harry began to settle in for their first night at Potter Manor.


	6. A Family History

This chapter wasn't actually planned to be its own chapter, but instead was originally combined with the next one. But it ended up being pretty long, so I split them into two.

Small bit of trivia before we start.

Enjoy!

* * *

Waking up the following morning was a little disorientating for both Harry and Jack, as neither were familiar with the new environment they had found themselves in.

Stepping into the shower, Jack allowed the hot water to flow over him, as he remained deep in thought.

The timeline had changed now, regardless of what he did from here on out. But there were so many things he could still change. Start the horcrux hunt? Start the legal process to get Sirius out of Azkaban?

Revealing himself to Albus Dumbledore was a sketchy idea. Who knows how the man might react. He could pump him full of veritaserum, and obliviate him once he was finished… Okay, that last thought was unlikely, but it was horrible to think about.

What Jack didn't notice, as he was deep in thought, was the water making movements it shouldn't have done, while it was travelling out of the shower head and towards the bath below Jack's feet.

By 9 o'clock, the pair managed to find their way to the dining room, where Dotty served them both breakfast – Porridge, with a lot of fruits, and a pitcher of orange juice.

Apparently, the elves pulled money out of a specially designated vault which, like Harry's trust vault, held a specific number of Galleons, topped up from the main Potter family vault each month.

Once they'd finished, Jack gestured to the main living room, and the pair seated themselves exactly where they had been the night before.

"So, I think we should start with a cover story for me." Jack started.

"A cover story? Why?"

"Yeah, we make up a story about how we knew each other in the future. It makes it easier to explain our situation to everyone else. I'm going to suggest that I was a muggle you ran into. Now I'm a squib, but I'm able to help you out. Fabby touched on something last night too, which might be advantageous to us."

"What's that?"

"He said Potter 'Castellan', which is like a fancy word for butler, or manager of the estate. It would advantage me because it would give me a little bit of weight to throw about in the Ministry if they get uppity – basically me using your fame to our advantage. And I'm pretty sure I can swing it that I'm a magical adult. Meaning you can practice magic here at the manor without issue."

"Huh, that's cool. I thought we couldn't use magic outside of Hogwarts though?"

"Well, they only find out if there's no magical adult around to claim responsibility."

Harry thought for a second, allowing the implications to wash over him. "That seems pretty unfair."

"Yup, but we can use it to our advantage. And you could ask Hermione and her parents to come over for a few days, and she could practice too."

"That's a good idea."

"So, our cover story is…"

Jack established the fact that he had known Harry in the future, although Harry was a much older man at the time. Now that Jack had time-travelled to the past, Jack could help his now much younger friend.

"I suppose that works. So, what's next on our list?"

"Well, I think getting me registered at the Ministry should be the next thing we do, probably Monday?" Jack queried.

Upon seeing his companion's affirmative response, he continued, "I suggest you write back to your friends today, so they don't worry about you not replying to their letters. Perhaps we can host the Grangers and a Weasley or two next week, after the wards are fully online."

Standing up, Jack said, "Right, I'm going to go look at the library I noticed on the way to our bedrooms last night. I want to see if there's any books on politics, or the ministry in general. I'm not going to tell you what to do, but I suggest that after you finish your letters, you speak with the elves and various portraits around here. We can have Dotty prepare some lunch for us around 1."

"Sounds good to me. I'll see you at lunch."

Harry watched as Jack strode out of the room, before turning to Fabby who chose that moment to appear out of thin air.

"Fabby, is there anything I should be aware of right now?"

"No Master Harry, everything is well in hand at the moment. I suggest you take Master Starburn's advice and speak to your grandparents."

Nodded decisively, Harry ignored Fabby as he faded out of existence. Somehow, he'd come to accept the elf's sudden constant presence in his life. It seemed that Fabby would follow him around invisibly, unless he called for him. It was comforting in some ways, but slightly disturbing in others.

"Don't worry, Harry. You'll get used to Fabby. He'd an old elf, stuck in his ways. He was like that for my father, grandfather, and his father before him," said Charlus, who looked at Harry with a knowing look, as if he could read his thoughts.

"Grandfather Charlus-" Harry started, but was interrupted. "Call me Granddad, or Charlus, if you must." Charlus said, kindly.

Nodding, Harry tried again. "Granddad, what can you tell me about my family?"

Here, Charlus grimaced, while Dorea shook her head sadly. "A crime, my dear boy. It's truly a crime your family history has been kept from you." He started.

"The Potters are a Most Ancient and Noble House, stemming back to the early 1300s, when our ancestor, Linfred of Stinchcombe, took the last name _Potter_ , and passed it onto his children.

"Some 300 years later, one Abraham Potter, my many times great-grandfather, took a branch of the family to America. He became one of the first families to align themselves with the Magical Congress of the United States of America, or MACUSA, and was trained as one of the first 13 Aurors."

"Law enforcement, dear. A keeper of the peace," added Dorea, seeing the confused look on Harry's face. Charlus smiled at his wife, before continuing.

"My grandfather, Henry, served as Lord Potter until he died in 1889. My father, Fleamont, was born in 1875, and became Lord Potter upon reaching his majority in 1892, but sadly died during Grindelwald's war in 1944.

"He was one of Albus Dumbledore's right-hand men and died fighting Grindelwald's enforcers. Linnaeus Selwyn, Leonel Selwyn, Vinda Rosier, and Titus Travers remain incarcerated in Azkaban to this day for their parts in Grindelwald's War, one of their many crimes being my father's death. Minister Leonard was only too happy to sentence them to life in Azkaban."

Sighing, Charlus continued, "I became Lord Potter in 1944, at the tender age of 48, on the back of one of the Potter family's biggest deals in history; we sold the recipe and production rights of my father's potion, _Sleakeazy's_ for several hundreds of thousands of Galleons, plus a percentage in Davis & Macmillans potion brewing and supplying business. Basically, we get a small cut of every sale of the potion.

"I met your grandmother in Hogwarts, as we were in the same school year. She was a Black, before she became a Potter. The Black family is very Traditions focused and have been at the centre of the Traditionalists political bloc since its inception, hundreds of years ago."

Dorea added her own perspective, "My younger brother, Arcturus, whom eventually became Head of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, hated Charlus while we were in school. Incidentally, he married Melania Macmillan, aunt of Michael, the man your grandfather sold the potion to."

Charlus chortled. "Fortunately, Arcturus grew up once we'd all left Hogwarts, and saw the benefits of trading political favours when appropriate."

Harry smiled slightly, almost indulgently, before asking, "What about my dad?"

Charlus looked at Dorea, before saying, "Dorea and I struggled to have children, although we never figured out why. Even a trip to Mungo's didn't help…"

"That's the wizarding hospital in London, dear." Dorea added.

"Yes, yes. Anyway, James was quite a surprise, he came along in 1960."

Harry wrinkled his nose, trying not to think about the obvious connotations of that statement. Charlus laughed at the look, and as if reading his mind, he added, "Fortunately witches and wizards have much longer lifespans than muggles, and we remain fertile longer too. Lily used to tell us about the difference all the time." Here, Charlus smiled fondly.

"Oh, Lily was such a lovely young witch." Dorea said, seeing Harry's eager look. "She knew just how to keep my boy in line."

Charlus chortled again. "Yes, James was quite the troublemaker when he was younger. Fortunately, he settled down just before leaving Hogwarts, and marrying Lily. Although he and his little band of friends raised absolute hell at Hogwarts," Charlus finished, winking at Harry, who laughed loudly, a large grin on his face.

"Who were his friends?"

Charlus frowned, "Strange thing that. Dorea's great-nephew, Arcturus' grandson, Sirius Black – named after Dorea and her brother's father – was one of James' best friends. He's also your godfather, Harry. We would have expected him to take care of you, in the event that James and Lily couldn't. If not him, then either Remus Lupin, or Peter Pettigrew should have.

Harry frowned. "I've never heard of any of those people though."

"Perhaps you should ask Jack, over lunch?" Dorea added.

"Good idea," Harry murmured, deep in thought.

* * *

A short while later, Harry was guided by Fabby into the library. The Heir and his elf found Jack had situated himself at one of the 3 desks in the modest sized library.

One the table around him were many books. Harry's eyes picked out a few titles… " _The Wizards' Council: A History of Pre-Ministry of Magic Britain, by Adalbert Waffling"_ , " _A History of Magic, 2_ _nd_ _edition, by Bathilda Bagshot"_ , and" _Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them, by Newt Scamander"_.

The book Jack was flicking through – _"The Wizengamot, by Griselda Marchbanks"_ – Harry caught the title of, as Jack closed it upon seeing the pair enter the room.

"Time for lunch. You can go back to your books after we've eaten." Harry said, eyeing the books with dislike.

Jack laughed in response. "Research is definitely a necessary evil, although those are a tad heavy for my liking."

Shaking his head, as he saw Harry had already left the room, Jack called after him, "Don't forget, you've got your summer homework to complete. You'll find this room rather helpful, I'm sure!"

Following Harry into the dining room, he saw Harry whisper something to Dotty, who eagerly nodded, and popped away a split-second later.

Harry caught Jack's gaze, and casually said, "I thought we could eat lunch in the living room." Jack smelled a set-up, but ignored it, as a gesture of goodwill. He nodded, and the pair walked into the living room.

Jack waved in greeting to Charlus and Dorea, before sitting down on the sofa. Dotty popped in with a plate full of chicken, and beef sandwiches, and another pitcher of orange juice. At a request from Jack, she returned a moment later with a second pitcher, this time filled with water.

"Did you know the title of _Ancient_ is a title afforded to a house that has existed for at least 250 years? So, any family that has kept the same second name since at least 1792 will be an _Ancient_ House, by this point." Jack started, conversationally, knowing full well Harry did not care – At least, not at that moment.

"While _Most Ancient_ is similar to _Ancient_ , but the _Most_ part gets added on after 500 years. House Potter was formed way back in the early 12th century and has been around for a good 800 years, so easily qualify.

" _Noble_ however, is given to a house that can trace its routes back at least 5 generations of 'Pure-Blooded' witches or wizards. So that's how the House of Potter get their _Most Ancient and Noble_ title."

Harry couldn't maintain a poker-face for very long, so Jack decided to cut to the chase after he'd eaten his first sandwich.

"Okay Harry, what do you want to ask?"

Harry dived in immediately. "Where is my godfather, Sirius Black?" At seeing the equally curious looks on the portrait's expressions, Jack sighed, knowing they'd put him up to this.

Jack knew the pair had more or less adopted Sirius when he'd ran away from the Black ancestral home at 16. Or was he 15? Of course, they'd want to know why he hadn't been caring for Harry. They'd died shortly before James and Lily were killed. That actually raised the question of how the portraits knew about James and Lily's deaths, but that was a question for another time. Probably something to do with the elves.

"Sirius Black is currently incarcerated in Azkaban prison. He was imprisoned by the DMLE and sentenced by Bartemius Crouch Snr for mass-murder with the Blasting Curse; giving the location of the cottage in Godric's Hollow, which lead to the deaths of James, and Lily; as well as his service to Dark Lord Voldemort."

A horrified silence overcame the group, as Jack took a sip of water. Jack took a moment to survey them.

Harry looked stunned. Charlus looked thunderstruck. But it was Dorea that made Jack crack. The poor woman began to silently wail, tears pouring down her cheeks.

The decision to reveal the truth was instantly made in his mind. _"Curse these bloody life-like paintings."_

"Sirius Black was wrongly imprisoned, without trial, for these crimes. He did not fire the Blasting Curse which killed 12 muggles, and one wizard. He did not give away the location of the Potter home in Godric's Hollow. And he was never a servant of _him_."

Jack continued on, ignoring the looks he was receiving. "I was hesitant to reveal this information because there is currently not a lot we can do to get Sirius out of Azkaban."

"Rubbish!" Charlus interjected with a shout. "Sirius is the Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black! The Ministry should be bending over backwards to assist him!"

"Times change, Charlus. Lucius Malfoy has been the Head of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy since the late 70s, and he's now one of the most powerful men in Wizarding Britain, and he has the ear of the Minister himself. Lucius knows Sirius was never a Death Eater, because Lucius managed to make his way into _his_ Inner Circle, so why would he want Sirius – his enemy – out of Azkaban?"

"Surely the rest of the Wizengamot were up in arms over this?! The Traditionals should be outraged that an Heir to a Most Ancient and Most Noble House was imprisoned without trail! The Progressives should have been campaigning for his release, since he was part of Dumbledore's Order!" Charlus looked furious over Sirius' imprisonment.

But Jack shook his head. "Lucius has an iron-tight grip over the Traditionals; and has done so for the past decade. And as for the Progressives…" He trailed off, eyeing Harry.

"Either Albus Dumbledore genuinely didn't know about the switch, or he had a far more sinister purpose in mind."

"What?" Harry said, confused by the change in conversation.

"Harry, your parents were hidden through the use of an incredibly complex and powerful charm, called the Fidelius Charm. The charm hides all trace of the information inside the secret-keeper's soul. The information in your parent's case, was the location of their home at Godric's Hollow."

Here, Jack sighed. "Now comes the interesting part. You see, your mother was an expert at charms, and it was rumoured that she would apprentice under Filius Flitwick for her Charms Mastery. It's entirely possible that she discovered the Fidelius Charm herself, and convinced James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter to cast the charm on Sirius, hiding the information within his soul.

"However, I find that unlikely. In 'A History of Magic', it mentions the fall of Lord Voldemort and briefly covers the Fidelius Charm. It states it is an ' _extremely difficult, multifaceted and potent charm_ ', so it's far more likely that Albus Dumbledore himself cast the charm which hid your parents."

Again, Jack sighed. "This raises the issue I previously mentioned. It wasn't Sirius that hid the information inside his soul. It was in fact, Peter Pettigrew. Sirius had the brilliant idea of being bait for Lord Voldemort. He thought he would be the obvious person to have the location of their whereabouts, so instead they used the charm on Peter."

 _"Peter Pettigrew betrayed my son and his wife to Voldemort._ " Charlus said, in a deathly whisper, his eyes furious.

"Yes. Peter became a Death Eater sometime after he left Hogwarts, while joining the Order of the Phoenix and maintaining his friendship with James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus. He was there for Harry's birth, and shortly after, when James, Lily, and Harry went under the Fidelius, Peter went to _him_ with their location."

Jack paused and took a sip of water, before continuing. "Sirius was the second person to stumble upon the aftermath of theattack, and immediately knew what had occurred. In his shock, he handed Harry over to Hagrid – who appeared shortly after him – and proceeded to chase Peter down. He cornered him on a muggle street somewhere, but Peter lied loudly that Sirius had been the one to betray his friends. Peter used the momentary shock to blow up the street and escape. The ministry descended on the scene, arrested Sirius, and threw him into Azkaban without a trial."

Jack turned to Charlus. "Now you tell me, Charlus. If Albus Dumbledore knew who the secret-keeper was, why didn't he intervene?"

Turning to Harry, Jack added. "There are a few reasons why I don't trust the Headmaster, and that is only one of them, Harry."

"But why wouldn't he want Sirius out of Azkaban?" Harry queried, entirely confused.

"What information are we missing?" Dorea asked.

"Harry, do you believe me when I say I truly care about you, and I want nothing but the best for you?"

Harry balked at the strange turn in the conversation. "Err-I… I suppose. Why?"

Jack smiled benignly. "You're entirely too trusting. I do care, and I do want you to succeed in life, and I want you to get through your Hogwarts years as painlessly as possible.

"There's a war coming, Harry. You met Lord Voldemort for the 2nd time a few months ago. But you won't meet him again until the end of your 4th year at Hogwarts, unless something changes drastically.

"There are somethings which both Headmaster Dumbledore, and I would keep from you. I think it's because we care about you. Because we both want you to live the life of a child for just a few more years – Although I know you would argue that you've never had a proper childhood because of the Dursleys."

Jack paused. "Gah-… What was my point again?"

A short, confused silence later, Jack remembered. "Oh yes. Basically, I'm not sure we can fully trust the Headmaster will do what's best for you, rather than what he thinks is best for the Wizarding World as a whole. He believes in a saying, 'For The Greater Good'."

Here, Charlus inhaled sharply, uttering, " _He would never…_ " Dorea also looked surprised.

"Grindelwald's saying is something that Albus has taken to heart. It is my belief that Albus allowed Sirius to go to Azkaban, so that he could have control of where Harry would live. He knew full well what the Dursleys were like, and wanted an emotionally abused and stunted child to come to Hogwarts, eyes full of wonder, and Albus would sweep him up and paint himself as the 'trusted grandfather'."

Jack turned to look directly at Dorea. "You asked what information you're missing? There's a prophesy about Harry."

"Prophesies are a dangerous business." Dorea responded. "They're a load of tosh!" Charlus interjected, "We should be more concerned with getting Sirius out of Azkaban."

Jack looked at Harry. "In the original timeline, Sirius escaped Azkaban in a year's time. It would be my suggestion to drop a hint to the DMLE that there was never a trial, but it's highly likely that nothing will come of it. It anything happens, great. But it is my belief that it will be swept under the rug. Sirius will break out next summer, and we will collect him and bring him here."

"What if we're wrong about Dumbledore?" Harry questioned.

 _"'We', eh? Good lad."_ Jack thought.

"Hope for the best, plan for the worst. If we're wrong, great. Albus has a lot of political capital we can use against the Ministry in order to get an innocent man out of the maximum-security wing of Azkaban. If not, then Sirius breaks out of Azkaban after 12 years, and we find him. I know where he's going to be just after your 13th birthday, the 6th of August, to be exact."

Dorea's portrait abruptly started sniffling again. "Oh Merlin, he's been in Azkaban for 12 years. In maximum-security, which means surrounded by Dementors." Even Charlus looked a little pale.

Harry however, just looked confused. "What are Dementors?"

"Soul-sucking demons." Charlus bit out. "Dementors suck the happiness from the world; the abominations feed on it. They can remove your soul from your body, a method called the Dementor's Kiss."

Looking horrified, Harry jumped to his feet. "We've got to do something! We need to save him! He's my godfather!"

"Slow down, Harry. Sirius has been in there for 11 years already. He'll be the same now as he will in a year's time." Jack said, before adding, "Now look, I know that's not the justification you're looking for, so I'll tell you this. Sirius is an Animagus, a magical that can transform into an animal. In his animal form, the Dementors don't affect him as much.

"I won't lie to you, Dorea, he's not the same boy you knew. Azkaban has affected him mentally. But once he's here, you'll be able to help him."

Dorea tearfully nodded, and Charlus nodded in thanks as well. Jack turned to Harry, and asked, "Do you have any more questions before we finish lunch?"

"Nothing that can't wait, I suppose." Harry responded.

And with that, the pair ate the rest of their lunch in silence. Both of them thinking about the conversation they'd just had.

* * *

Once they'd finished, Jack asked Harry to follow him out to the grounds behind the manor. From the looks of it, they had a smaller-than-normal sized Quidditch pitch out back, as well as a large grassy area of garden.

"So, what are we doing outside?" Harry asked.

"I've decided we need to set our schedules somewhat, so that we're in control and aren't losing time on meaningless things. Make sense?"

Harry thought for a second, then nodded. "I suppose so."

"Ok, good. So, we should aim to get up at 8 in the morning and have eaten breakfast by 9. That gives us a couple of hours before lunch at 1 to get things like reading, research, and homework out of the way. After lunch, you've got an hour to do what you like. Then from 2 onwards, we're going to be outside exercising."

Jack held his hand up to forestall the coming questions. "Now, I know you're going to ask why we need to exercise, and the answer is simple. Remember that war that I mentioned? Well, I happen to be rather fond of you, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

Here, Harry ducked his head to hide his blush. He wasn't used to people looking out for him.

"In a wizarding fight, people only think about magic, but what happens if you lose your wand? Game over, right?"

Harry nodded, not having thought of it like that before.

"Wizards rely a lot on their wands. But we're going to exercise, to build up muscle and speed. This means we can dodge spells more consistently, last longer in a duel or fight, and if you lose your wand, you might be able to get it back easier."

"Plus, it would probably help you play Quidditch." Jack added. "Sold!" Harry immediately replied, to which Jack laughed.

"Alright then. The first thing we need to do is warm our muscles up, so they're ready for the exercises. So, we'll start off with a small amount of stretching our legs, just our hamstrings and calves – because you should never start off with a lot of static stretches, or so I'm told." Here, Jack had a fond smile on his face, as if remembering something. "Then we'll be jogging for a bit, then finally some proper stretching."

Harry copied the exercises Jack demonstrated for a few minutes, before they both started to jog around the make-shift Quidditch pitch. After 2 laps, they slowed down.

"Okay, next you should do some push-ups, sit-ups, crunches, burpees, planking, etc. I'm doing to be doing something a tad different."

Harry sent Jack a questioning gaze but didn't comment. Instead he began to do the series of recommended exercises. Thankfully Wood had taught him what most of the exercises Jack named actually were, because Jack just assumed he knew.

Meanwhile, Jack began to do some more stretching, which culminated in him doing the splits. Ignoring Harry's shocked and, if he was honest, horrified gasp, at what he'd just done, Jack stood up and executed a couple of basic kicks and punches.

Turning to Harry, he smirked and said, "I suppose I didn't mention. I'm a blue belt in Taekwondo, and I'd like to keep up with my training."

Harry did know that Taekwondo was a martial art, like Karate, but wasn't sure what the differences were, until Jack explained. At a basic level, Karate focused on punches within combat, while Taekwondo focused on kicks.

"Impressive." Harry commented. And it was, too. The kicks were all aimed at the head of someone that only Jack could see, and there were even a few spinning kicks thrown in for good measure.

Harry could easily imagine himself doing the same to Dudley, or an evil wizard if he lost his wand.

"Could you teach me?" Harry asked.

"It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to teach you the basics." Came the prompt response from the only slightly winded Jack. It was clear he'd been practicing often for a long time to have that sort of stamina.

"However, I think it would be best if you stuck to learning to throw spells, rather than kicks or punches."

Harry nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Something I always hated from Taekwondo was Poomsae, or Patterns. It's basically a dance which shows off your mastery over individual techniques. I personally think it's a waste of energy, and highly impractical, but I can show you the first pattern."

And with that, Harry watched as Jack executed a series of moves which did look a bit like a highly scripted dance. It looked very rigid, and unnatural, although that might have been because of Jack's lack of enthusiasm.

What Harry didn't notice, although Jack did, was the earth beneath Jack's feet appearing to change shape, moulding around his feet as he moved from side to side, throwing his arm around in a defensive technique, followed by a punch, before turning back and repeating the same techniques.

 _"Definitely something I'll need to look into later."_ Jack thought.

Harry clapped after Jack finished the series of techniques with a shout, which, Harry was later informed, was called a Kihap. Afterwards, Jack joined Harry in doing the previously mentioned routine of exercises.

Once they'd finished, Jack told Harry to ask Dotty for a towel and some water, and instructed him to do some light stretching, so he could cooldown.

* * *

It was later that afternoon that Harry found Jack in the library once again. Although he did manage to pull Jack away from his book on the ministry, Jack did inform Harry he'd like his help at some point looking for a book on Elemental magic.

Over dinner, the topic of conversation ranged over their upcoming trip to the ministry on Monday, house elves and their symbiotic relationships with their masters, and the new school year.

"Do you know who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor will be?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I do. In fact, you're going to meet him in a few weeks, when we go to Diagon to get your supplies for the year. I don't want to colour your perception of him this early, but let's just say you'll be doing a lot of self-study for DADA this year." Replied an amused Jack.

"Also," he continued, in a more serious tone, "If anything happens, or anything feels… _Off_ about the man, you should either write me a letter, or tell Professor McGonagall."

Jack had known Gilderoy Lockhart to be a man of questionable status across various fan works. At best, he was a useless wizard with a penchant for Memory Charms. At worst? Well, some say the man has a preference for children.

"Err, okay? I'll do that," replied a slightly confused Harry, clearly not used to having people look out for him.

"Now, have you finished replying to those that wrote to you over the break?" Jack asked, well aware he had changed the timeline already. Harry was supposed to have been at the Burrow by now, so he hoped Harry had explained recent events adequately to Ron.

"Yup. I wrote back to Ron, and Hermione about what had happened recently. I said that I met you a few weeks ago, and you've been helping me out with wizarding related stuff over the summer." Harry replied, clearly happier with the knowledge that his friends hadn't forgotten about him.

"Good. When they reply, likely tomorrow, respond with an idea about meeting up in a couple of weeks. I'm sure we could pop over to the Granger's residence, as well as floo to the Burrow. They could even stay here, over a weekend, perhaps."

"Really?" Harry's eyes lit up, as he clearly took the idea and ran with it. "That'd be awesome."

"Sure. It would be a good excuse for me to establish myself with the parents of your friends and talk about boring adult stuff." Jack responded, half-jokingly.

"Uh huh," was the response from Harry, as he rolled his eyes.

"Right then, kiddo. Time for me to get back to the library. You've pretty much got run of the house for the rest of the night, and tomorrow is Sunday, which is a rest day, meaning our schedule doesn't apply."

"Sweet." Came the short response, as Harry jumped away from the table and towards the living room. He seemed really taken by Charlus, and loved his grandad's stories. Although Dorea was always quick to rain on Charlus' parade whenever the man started embellishing too much.

Saturday quickly came to an end, and much like the previous night, Harry and Jack went to bed in a unfamiliar environment, both dreaming of a happy future.


End file.
